LIBRA; 
UNIVERSITY   OF  CALIFORNIA. 


Ren 

\ 


.i88O 


LYRA  BICYCLICA: 


SIXTY  POETS  ON  THE  WHEEL. 


BY 


JOSEPH   G.  DALTON. 


SECOND  EDITION,  ENLARGED  AND  IMPROVED. 


BOSTON: 
E.     C.     HODGES     &    CO. 

1885. 


COPYRIGHT,  1885, 
BY  J.  G.   DALTON. 


ELECTROTYPED  AND  PRINTED 

BY    RAND,  AVERY,   AND    COMPANY, 

BOSTON. 


If  85 


Bicyclian  bards  who  sung 

Wheely  ideas  below, 
Which  always  find  us  young, 

Or  always  make  us  so. 

Verse,  like  a  choir  of  poets  in  its  sound, 
All  on  his  seat  the  rotal  poemster  sings  ; 

And  while  he  turns  the  vivid  wheel  around, 
Revolves  no  sad  incertitude  of  things. 


PREFATORY. 


THE  unprecedented  peculiarities  of  most  of  the 
verses  herein  contained  seem  to  be  warrant  enough 
for  their  collection  into  a  volume.  Doubtless  a  new 
Ars poetica,  with  a  wholly  novel  subject  (though  nar- 
row), should  float  a  book,  if  it  be  not  otherwise  in- 
sufferably heavy. 

The  author-compiler  is  one  of  the  very  first  Bos- 
tonians  who,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1877,  began 
to  ride  and  write  into  notice  the  bicycle  in  this 
country.  A  few  words  also  seem  needful  here  in 
explanation  of  his  entering  upon  the  manufacture 
of  this  "machine  poetry," — such  in  a  fuller  sense  of 
the  term  than  it  ever  had  before. 

Under  the  early  exhilarating  effect  of  the  wiry 
transit,  in  a  sportive  communication  to  a  city  paper 
(the  Globe  of  Jan.  9,  '78)  he  called  upon  our  native 
poets,  naming  some  in  particular,  to  favor  us  with  a 
song  or  two  for  the  new  move,  declaring  that  its 


vi  PREFATORY. 

uliar  charms  and  potencies  deserved  and  awaited 
an  adequate  celebration.  Strange  to  say,  no  response 
to  this  invitation  was  forthcoming,  excepting  a  brief 
trille  signed  O.  W.  H.  (now  on  p.  22  of  this  volume) 
in  the  same  paper  a  short  time  after.  Thanks  for 
small  favors ;  but,  in  the  opinion  of  the  present 
writer,  sustained  bursts  of  panegyrical  song  were 
needed  to  meet  the  demands  of  the  occasion  !  How 
to  get  them  ?  Having  little  confidence  in  his  own 
capacity  for  poetry,  he  sought  aid  through  the  old 
proverb  about  "  birds  that  can  sing  and  won't  sing," 
and  soon  hit  upon  the  surprising  discovery  that  the 
meaning  of  poems  can  be  extracted,  and  a  new 
one  substituted,  without  injuring  the  form.  So  the 
Chinese  will  vacuate  an  egg  or  an  orange  of  its 
original  contents,  fill  it  with  strange  confections, 
and  leave  no  discernible  break.  In  our  case  the 
diligent  artificer  sometimes  sees  opportunities  of  im- 
proving the  exterior  also.  From  trying  this  process 
upon  the  two  distinguished  poets  who  had  neglected 
his  modest  request,  the  writer  has  developed  the 

lyrical  Method,  and  extended  his  scheme  of  confis 
cation  over  a  very  wide  extent  of  various  song. — 
"  Insatiate  Bicycler,  would  not  two  suffice?"  says  the 


PREFATORY.  vii 

gentle  reader.  Not  a  bit  of  it :  refused  a  little,  he 
will  ravage  much.  There  are,  however,  quite  a  num- 
ber of  pieces  radically  his  own,  which  the  proficient 
reader  will  easily  distinguish.  Nearly  all  have 
appeared  in  papers  of  this  city,  or  in  England,  and 
are  now  revised  and  improved. 

Mindful  of  the  fate  of  Marsyas,  and  that  of  the 
dilated  frog  in  the  fable,  he  presents  them  to  the 
reading  public,  who  should  kindly  make  due  allowance 
for  the  spirit  of  youth  and  the  Wheel ;  and  he  dedi- 
cates them  to  the  gathering  host  of  wheelmen  on  this 
continent,  with  the  motto,  — 

3Sota  non  furor  brebfe  eat. 

OCTOBER,  1880. 


NOTE   TO    SECOND    EDITION. 


THIS  edition  contains  nearly  half  as  much  again  as  the 
first,  while  some  of  the  poorer  things  are  dropped  and  a 
few  passages  in  vile  taste  reformed.  All  are  now  dis- 
tinctly scrumptious,  and  some  are  "  corkers  ;  "  and  there 
is  a  larger  proportion  entirely  mine  than  before.  As  a 
collection  of  parodic  and  mock-heroic  poems  on  a  single 
topic,  it  is  one  of  a  very  few ;  the  only  examples  of  any 
note  being  the  "  Rejected  Addresses  "  and  "  Warreniana," 
an  imitation  of  them.  The  Bi-lyrical  and  super-parodic 
method  is  here  at  last  applied  to  all  the  available 
material  from  practically  the  whole  range  of  poetry.  The 
result,  which  would  have  been  pronounced  quite  impos- 
sible by  the  best  judges,  is  —  for  extremes  meet  —  a  most 
original  product,  and  is  the  first  sustained  attempt  to 
compel  the  ardors  and  music  of  prime  poetry  into  the 
service  of  mirth.  It  is  parody  raised  to  a  higher  power, 
the  union  of  fervid  and  comic.  My  own  weakness  made 
strong  by  the  method,  and  certain  gay  angels  assisting, 
I  have  aspired  to  set  the  almost  miracular  facts  of  cyclical 
predominance  to  song  of  like  quality  and  exalt  the  move- 
ment into  a  sort  of  new  cult,  furnishing  the  hymns  and  a 
god  complete. 

I  have  worked  this  vein  for  all  it  is  worth,  and,  regard- 
less alike  of  the  big-wigs  and  the  little  wags,  offer  the 
book  as  an  artistic  novelty  in  American  humor  and  a 

3 


4  NOTE    TO  SECOND  EDITION. 

step  toward  the  racy  and  hardy  poetry  of  the  future.  My 
underwriters  insure  readers'  attention.  If  there  is  too 
much  of  the  strut  and  voice  of  chanticleer  in  it  —  well, 
that  is  better  than  to  limp  and  the  timid  and  doleful  notes 
which  are  so  common. 

The  display  of  Latin  (which  I  only  hope  is  all  ri^ht) 
comes  not  of  pedantry,  but  as  the  nearest  that  could  be 
done  toward  including  that  language  in  my  plan. 

The  incorrect  termination  as  in  cyckrwas  too  frequent 
to  rectify  all  in  the  plates ;  it  does  not  occur  in  the  later 
pieces. 

N.B.  In  the  angelic  aid  mentioned  above,  an  elderly 
spirit  would  speak  as  in  his  own  person  at  times,  which 
may  cause  some  doubt  as  to  the  actual  youth  of  the 
writer,  who  does  not  care  to  be  quite  identified  with  him, 
no  more  than  with  the  one  who  disports  in  the  Waltese 
style  —  being  himself  truly  Juvenis. 

J.  G.  D. 

JANUARY,  1885. 


CONTENTS. 


PREFATORY v 

NOTE  TO  SECOND  EDITION 3 

PRELUSIONS  FROM  THE  POETS n 

THE  HARP  OF  ROTA 13 

THE  OVER-CYCLES 14 

INITIAL  AND  CELESTIAL  CYCLING 16 

THE  TREAD-WHEEL  SONG 21 

THE  YOUTH  AND  THE  BICYCLE 22 

A  TOAST 23 

THE  WHEELLESS 24 

A  SONNET 25 

MY  BICYCLE 26 

TRANSLATIONS  VERY  MUCH  TRANSLATED  FROM  LONG- 
FELLOW :  — 

THE  CELESTIAL  CYCLER 29 

SONG  OF  THE  SILENT  WHEEI 31 

THE  EARTH  HATH  ITS  GEMS 32 

THE  WHEEL 33 

PEGASUS  IN  (ABOUT  40)  POUND 34 

THE  LADDER  OF  ST.  HYGEIA 36 

THE  STILLY  WHEEL 38 

5 


6  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

BlCYCLICALISTHENICS 41 

To  Tin    KOVFK  UNK 42 

Y  \NKIK-LAND 43 

ROTA  ET  ROTULA 45 

LAY  OF  THE  PEDESTRIAN 46 

THE  BICYCLE 47 

HASTE  NOT,  PAUSE  NOT 48 

THE  STEED  OF  FIRE 49 

I'.ISAKEL 51 

GRAND  CHORUS 53 

OWED  TO  THE  BICYCLE 54 

THOSE  BICYCLES 55 

ANACREON  :  ODE  XXXIX 56 

ROTAL  POESY 57 

FROM  THE  GREEK 58 

THE  DANDY  BICYCLER 59 

MAGNALIA  CYCLI 60 

MY  MOBILE  NUMBERS 61 

LITTLE  Miss  LOQUITUR 62 

"Music"  ON  THE  WIRE 62 

ROTA  ANGLICA 64 

THE  WHEEL-SHOP 64 

CARMEN  BICYCLICUM 65 

FLEET  WHEEL 67 

SECOND  YOUTH 68 

His  FIRST  RIDE 69 

"  MORTALITY  "  ENLIVENED 70 


CONTENTS.  7 

PAGE 

SONG  TO  BISAKEL 72 

WHERE'S  MY  JOHN? 73 

CAREFUL  SENIOR'S  SONG 75 

WHEEL  vs.  HORSE 78 

CURRENTE   BlCYCLO 78 

RATHER  THAN  ROTA 79 

THE  PILGRIM 80 

THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  STUD 80 

CYCLUS  PRO  ME  PREPARATUS 81 

A  HYMNLET 82 

A  PENSIVE  SONGLET 83 

THE  PHANTOM  OF  DELIGHT 83 

IN  THE  RUNNING'EM  Co.'s  SALESROOM 85 

HYGEIA'S  WHEEL 86 

A  MERRY  CAR 88 

ELDERS,  COME  UP 90 

To  MIDDEL  ACER,  ESQ 91 

WINTRY  MUSINGS 91 

ADAPTED  ODE 93 

"Mv  LOVE,"  A  SPOOPSY  POEM 94 

ROTA  FELIX 96 

"  GONDOLA  "  MADE  BICYCLE 96 

RHYMES  OF  THE  ROAD 97 

SONNETS  BY  WHEELIAM  SHAKESPOKE:  — 

To  ABEL  ELDER 99 

THE  REASONS  WHY 100 

To  BISAKEL ,  102 


8  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

His  MODERN  HORSE 104 

Tm-:  r.irv<  I.I.K;  A  YA<;\RY 105 

CAMPBELL  UNDONE  AND  OUTDONE 106 

ALTA  CANENS 107 

APOLOGY 108 

NON  ASSUMPSIT 109 

ROTALIS  EQUITATUS 109 

LIFE  ON  THE  PALE  BICYCLE no 

REJUVENATED in 

MY  CHOICE 112 

SONNETS  AFTER  E.  B.  B 113 

Tin;  WHEEL'S  EXPRESSION 114 

ROUNDELS  AFTER  SWINBURNE:  — 

VOICE  OF  WHEEL 115 

IN  PARLOR 115 

SECURITY 116 

A  QUESTION  ANSWERED 117 

A  SONNET 119 

SONNETS  AFTER  FOREIGN  SAMPLES:  — 

IN  A  RIDING  RINK 120 

OF  SOME  ROADS 120 

A  SENIOR'S  INTENT 121 

A  RONDEAU 122 

IN  "TRINITY"  SQUARE,  1878 123 

URBS  BICYCLICA 123 

ROTA  Musis  AMIGA 124 

A  MODEST  ASCRIPTION 125 


CONTENTS.  9 

PAGE 

SON  OF  HYGEIA 126 

A  LAMENTATION 127 

"  XTRAORDINARY  " 128 

A  SONGLET 129 

" HORSE  SENSE" 130 

UNSATISFIED 131 

ARE  You  READY? 132 

POST  ROTAM  ARNICA 132 

WHEEL  AND  THE  YEAR 133 

WHEELY  THOUGHTS  AND  EJACULATIONS:  — 

THE  FINAL  MEET 134 

THE  UPWARD  GRAVITATION 137 

MOLLITER  AMBULANS 139 

PENSIVE  IN  A  BONEYARD 140 

EQUITES  ROTARUM 141 

TYRO'S  SOLILOQUY 141 

POEM  OF  THE  RIDE 142 

CHANTING  THE  ROUND  MIRIFIC 149 

A  DUET 154 

EGO,  PRIVATE  AND  POSTHUMOUS 155 

TO   THE   "POEMSTER" 156 

To  A  CERTAIN  PARODIST 157 

CLOSING  HYMN .  158 


PRELUSIONS  FROM  THE  POETS. 


IN  seipso  totus  teres  atque  rotundus. 

HORACE. 
AND  wondrous  was  his  way,  and  wondrous  was  his 

coach. 

COWLEY. 

MEN  met  each  other  with  erected  look, 
The  steps  were  higher  that  they  took. 

DRYDEN. 

BY  ceaseless  action  all  that  is  subsists. 
Constant  rotation  of  the  unwearied  wheel, 
That  Nature  rides  upon,  maintains  her  health, 
Her  beauty,  her  fertility.     She  knows 
No  instant's  pause,  and  lives  but  as  she  moves. 
Its  own  revolvency  upholds  the  world. 

COWPER. 

I  WAS  a  grovelling  creature  once, 
And  basely  cleaved  to  earth. 

Id. 

MIGHTY  stage  of  mortal  scenes, 
Brest  with  strong  and  gay  machines. 

WATTS. 
I  HAVE  been 
On  friendly  terms  with  this  machine. 

WORDSWORTH. 
II 


12  PR  ELUSIONS  FROM   THE   POETS. 

WHAT  wondrous  new  machines  have  late  been  spinning  ! 

BYRON. 
(  )\  with  the  giddy  circle,  chasing  Time. 

/</. 

Ix  gliding  state  she  wins  her  easy  way, 
To  chase  the  glowing  hours  with  flying  feet. 

Id. 

SINCE  the  time  of  horse-consuls,  now  long  out  of  date, 
No  nags  ever  made  such  a  stir  in  the  state. 

SOME  fast-going  authors  of  quite  a  new  breed. 

MOORE. 


Now  proceed, 

And  sing  the  extension  of  the  iron  horse 
Made  by  John  Taurus  with  Minerva's  aid, 
And  by  the  safe  Cunarder  carefully 
Conveyed  unto  the  Bay  State  capital, 
Where  charmed  starters  of  its  boom  did  take 
The  city  taste.     And  I,  if  thou  relate 
The  story  rightly,  will  to  all  declare 
That  largely  hath  the  bounteous  god  of  ride 
Bestowed  on  thee  the  wheely  shift  of  song. 

[From  a  new  Odyssey,  B.  viii.:  Ulysses  to  the  minstrel  sage, 
Demodocus,  of  the  "  clear-toned  harp."J 


LYRA    BICYCLICA. 


THE    HARP   OF   ROTA. 

MORE  of  a  strain  than  merely  my 
Verse  sounds  the  iron  wheel  along : 

Caught  on  the  wings  of  wire  to  fly 
Above  the  pitch  of  single  song, 

Poe,  Moore,  and  Byron  tuneful  climb, 
Emerson's  native  graces  play, 

With  chanting  Whitman  rudely  prime 
And  gentle  Longman's  moral  lay. 

William  the  Great  me  visited  ! 

Drawn  to  the  glimpses  of  the  wheel ; 
Caesar  nor  Phoebus  had,  he  said, 

Car  fashioned  so,  "  in  c6mplete  steel." 

13 


14  THE   OVER-CYCLES. 

Full  many  more  were  coaxed  to  aid  ; 

And  thus  a  middling  pen,  or  worse, 
On  lines  of  classic  models  made 
Diverted  and  diverting  verse. 

Some  bicycles  long  since  had  birth 
Ere  Coventry  so  many  named 

And  raised  new  ridings  o'er  the  earth 
On  those  gay  rollers  greatly  framedc 

Vain  was  the  brief  boneshakers'  ride, 
They  had  no  go-it,  and  they  died. 

In  vain  they  seemed,  inane  they  fled ; 
They  made  no  poet,  and  are  dead. 


THE    OVER-CYCLES. 

BY    R.   W.    E.  +  D. 

Lo !  New  England  answers  Old. 
Walker,  break  this  sloth  urbane ; 
A  Wheeling  voice  bids  be  uprolled 
Misty  gray  dreams  which  thee  detain. 


THE   OVER-CYCLES.  15 

Mark  how  the  climbing  cycle-boys 

Beckon  thee  to  all  their  joys, 

Horsed  on  a  tipsy  hoop  of  steel  — 

Pedepulsion  on  a  wheel. 

Youth,  by  a  "  mount "  make  free  thy  way, 

Teach  thy  feet  to  feel  the  pedal, 

Ere  yet  arrives  the  wintry  day 

Time  with  thy  feet  shall  meddle. 

Accept  the  bounty  of  the  high  cycle, 

Taste  the  lordship  of  the  bicycle. 

Oh,  what  is  the  cause  metaphysical 
Past  ages  have  scarce  met  a  bicycle  — 

That  Menu  and  Plato, 

And  Plutarch  and  Cato, 
Should  have  seldom  bestridden  the  bicycle  ? 
The  Sphinx  don't  know  nothing  about  'em ; 
Monadnoc  inclineth  to  doubt  'em ; 
Bold  Csesar  went  onward  without  'em ; 

But  how  Eze-kiel 

Often  plieth  "  the  wheel  "  ! 
Have  the  prophets  best  ridden  the  bicycJe  ? 


16       INITIAL  AND  CELESTIAL   CYCLING. 

INITIAL  AND   CELESTIAL   CYCLING. 
A   PARODY-MOSAIC. 

I. 

BICYCLIC  knights'  I  often  spy, 
On  horse  uncarnate  riding  by ; 
Nimbly  they  scale  his  vaulty  back, 
And  spin  along  the  travelled  track. 
I  see  men  go  up  and  down, 
In  the  country  and  the  town, 
Who  on  two  wheels  throned  sedate 
Have  not  hazarded  their  state : 
With  speedful  limbs  and  agile  toes 
Lusty  Juventus  circling  goes, 
And  Oldster's  legs,  aware  of  wane, 
Revivify  and  dance  again. 
They  are  there  for  benefit ; 
They  are  there  from  drudging  quit, 
And  Wisdom  journeying  on  the  road 
Daily  stops  to  view  their  mode. 

On  pedalian  pinions  fleeting, 
See  them  twirl  the  witching  wheel, 


INITIAL  AND   CELESTIAL   CYCLING.       17 

Orb-libration's  magic  beating 

In  the  tense  and  vibrant  steel. 

My  soul  the  mystic  carol  sings 

Of  those  silent  circling  wings  : 

It  is  ever  the  self-same  tale, 

The  first  experience  will  not  fail ; 

Only  two  in  the  garden  walked, 

And  with  snake  and  seraph  talked : 

Cycles  only  two  are  twirled, 

Yet  how  steadfastly  they  run, 

To  the  cadence  of  the  whirling  world 

That  dances  round  the  sun. 

Unheeded  Danger  near  him  strides, 

He  laughs  that  on  bicycle  rides. 

I  bend  my  fancy  to  their  leading, 
All  too  nimble  for  my  treading ; 
My  metric  feet  are  no  account 
To  lift  me  to  their  wheely  mount, 
And  much  revolving  in  my  mind 
Turns  up  no  chance  of  seat  behind. 
Keen  my  sense,  my  heart  was  young, 
Right  good-will  my  sinews  strung, 
But  no  speed  of  mine  avails 
To  hunt  upon  their  narrow  trails ; 


1 8      INITIAL  AND  CELESTIAL  CYCLING. 

Fleetest  couriers  alive, 

Never  yet  could  I  arrive. 

Sometimes  their  strong  speed  they  slacken, 

Though  they  are  not  overtaken ; 

On  and  away,  their  hasting  feet 

Make  the  morning  proud  and  sweet : 

Bright  on  the  cheeks  of  gay  and  staid 

The  rose  of  action  burns ; 

Though  breeches  wear,  and  coats  may  fade, 

Immortal  youth  returns. 

II. 

The  soul  regards  with  equal  ken 
The  dancing  Pleiads  and  our  frolic  men. 
Bird,  that  from  the  nadir's  floor 
To  the  zenith  top  can  soar, 
Light  rides  the  arch  of  night  and  noon, 
Bicycling  on  the  sun  and  moon ; 
So  orbit  of  the  muse  exceeds 
All  such  as  now  we  erring  own, 
Which  seeming  firm  mechanic  steeds, 
Are  shadows  flitting  up  and  down. 
Spirit  that  lurks  such  form  within 
Beckons  to  spirit  in  the  skin  ; 


INITIAL  AND   CELESTIAL   CYCLING.       19 

Self-kindled  every  semblance  glows, 
And  hints  the  future  which  it  owes. 
Hear  you  then,  bicycle  fellows, 
Fits  not  to  be  over-zealous ; 
Steeds  not  to  work  on  the  clean  jump, 
Nor  wind  nor  heart  perpetual  pump. 

Profounder  and  higher 
Man's  spirit  must  drive  ; 
To  his  aye-rolling  orbit 
No  goal  will  arrive ; 
The  cycles  that  now  draw  him 
With  fleetness  untold, 
Once  known,  —  for  new  cycles 
He  spurneth  the  old. 

Deep  lore  lieth  under 
These  circlets  of  time  ; 
They  melt  in  the  light  of 
Their  meaning  sublime. 
Love  works  at  the  axle, 
Beholdeth  the  way ; 
Forth  speed  the  strong  pulses 
To  the  borders  of  day. 


20         NITIAL   AND   CELESTIAL    CYCLING. 

Loftier  rounds,  a  purer  air, 

Ye  shall  climb  on  the  heavenly  stair; 

Your  reach  shall  yet  be  more  profound, 

And  a  vista  without  bound  ; 

The  axis  of  the  wheels  you  steer 

Be  the  axis  of  the  sphere. 

Upward,  higher  far, 

Over  sun  and  star, 

Thou  must  learn  to  mount, 

Into  vision  where  all  form 

In  one  only  form  dissolves ; 

In  a  region  where  the  wheel 

On  which  all  beings  ride 

Whizzingly  revolves ; 

Where  the  starred  eternal  worm 

Girds  the  world  with  bound  and  term. 


UP  !  and  the  dusty  race 
That  sat  in  horse-cars  long  — 
Be  swift  their  feet  as  antelopes, 
And  as  steam-engine  strong. 


THE   TREAD-WHEEL   SONG.  21 

THE    TREAD-WHEEL   SONG. 

ADAPTED   FROM   HOLMES. 

THE  stars  are  rolling  in  the  sky, 

The  earth  rolls  on  below, 
And  we  can  feel  our  twinkling  wheel 

Revolving  as  we  go. 
Then  tread  away,  my  gallant  boys, 

And  make  the  axle  fly ; 
Why  should  not  we  go  rotiform, 

Like  planets  in  the  sky  ? 

Wake  up,  come  up,  you  walking  men, 

And  stir  your  heavy  pegs  ; 
Arouse,  arise,  my  gawky  friend, 

And  ply  your  spider  legs  ! 
What  tho'  you  're  awkward  at  the  first, 

'Most  any  one  can  learn  — 
So  hold  upon  the  handles,  man, 

And  take  another  turn. 

They  Ve  built  us  up  a  noble  steed 
To  beat  the  vulgar  rout ; 


22       THE    YOUTH  AND   THE  BICYCLE. 

The  motion  is  almost  the  same 

As  just  to  walk  about. 
You  're  seated  on  horseback  afoot, 

To  speed  your  distant  ends ; 
Beside  the  pleasant  rolling  round 

Among  one's  honest  friends. 

Mark,  fellows,  't  is  a  Traveller, 

And  useful  work  is  done, 
As  well  as  on  its  spinning  wings 

To  fly  around  for  fun. 
You  '11  say,  when  our  revolving  colt 

You  shall  have  better  known, 
"  Now,  hang  me,  but  I  must  have  one 

Bicycle  of  my  own  !  " 


THE   YOUTH   AND   THE   BICYCLE. 

A  CERTAIN  young  man;  for  his  physical, 
Has  been  out  and  bought  him  a  bicycle ; 
He  is  careless  and  rash, 
And  it's  treating  him  "hash," 
This  hasty  young  man  on  his  bicycle. 


A    TOAST. 

Says  he,  you  acephalous  bicycle, 
I  shall  fling  you  away  for  a  tricycle, 

Have  a  tertium  quid, 

Or  it  cannot  be  rid, 
Says  hasty  young  man  off  his  bicycle. 


A  TOAST. 
HOLMES  PLUS  D. 

BlBAMUS  AD  PRIMUM  BlCYCLICUM  CLUB, 
IN  URBE  EORUM  GUI  NOMEN  EST  "  HUB  "  ; 
Ex  FLOREANT,  VALEANT,  VOLITANT  TAM, 
NON  PEIRCIUS  IPSE  ENUMERET  QUAM. 

Englished,  freely. 

HERE'S  luck  to  the  pioneer  Bicycle  Club, 
That  starts  in  the  place  entitled  the  Hub ; 
May  their  growth,  example,  and  circling  be  such, 
Not  Peirce's  own  chalk  can  reckon  how  much. 

*  Initials  dropt  now,  for,  used  in  such  a  way,  Dr.  Holmes  was  angry  that 
readers  would  think,  he  says,  "  these  rather  slipshod  rhymes  were  really 

mine."     £ut  *OTV  ^ens^r!  h?  is   at   any  taffy  for  Ms  vnr.ity  — -  "Oliver 
asking  for  more." 


24  THE    \niEELLESS. 

THE   WHEELLESS. 

CLOSELY   AFTER    HOL.M 

WE  count  the  working  heads  that  rest 

Where  the  fleet  whirling  riders  beckon, 
But,  on  our  silent  carrier's  crest, 

The  slow-goers  who  will  stop  to  reckon  ? 
A  few  can  twirl  the  magic  wire, 

And  noiseless  wheel  is  proud  to  win  them ; 
Alas,  for  those  who  walk  and  tire, 

And  bide  with  all  their  riding  in  them ! 

Nay,  care  not  for  the  live  alone, 

Much  song  has  told  their  art's  glad  story ; 
Wail  for  the  wheelless,  who  have  none  — 

No  lyric  chants  pedestrian  glory ! 
And  while  Arcadian  breezes  sweep 

O'er  Bicycle's  mirific  flyer, 
Call  where  the  clattering  horse-cars  creep, 

To  bring  your  brothers  one  yard  higher : 

"  O  men  that  walk,  and  take  car  line  — 
Have  tightening  boot  or  tortoise  horses, 


A   SONNET.  25 

And  Gout  going  home  to  cordial  wine, 

Slow-dropped  from  crowding's  crushing  process ; 

Attend  the  song  and  echoing  chord,  — 
With  over-ridden  poets  dealing, 

For  you  the  parodies  are  poured, 

As  mad  as  mirth,  as  two  as  wheeling  ! " 


A   SONNET. 

BY   WOLIVER   ENDELL. 
Incepit  Bostonia  et  cant  av  it. 

THOUGH  home  is  dear,  yet  oft  we  needs  must  sigh, 
Longing  for  what  our  lifted  soles  have  found 
To  shoot  beyond  the  city's  narrow  bound, 
Where  slippery  stones  and  bricky  sideways  lie ; 
That  fair  r-ideal  form  as  from  the  sky, 
By  youth  elected  and  by  poets  crowned 
Whose  legs  sweep  circling  in  a  fervid  round 
Where  the  urged  trotter  heeds  the  loud  hi,  hi! 
Frequent  to  thee  our  truest  hearts  return, 
Great  Mover,  alma  rota,  noiseless  kind, 
Whose  little  saddle  a  larger  home  we  find ; 
And  still  of  thee  thy  wondering  pupils  learn, 
While  with  the  flying  wires  thine  ardors  burn 
Where  all  our  wheeliest  melodies  are  designed. 


26  MY  BICYCLE. 

MY    BICYCLE. 

BY  JAGY   TORLTON. 
He  cadgily  ranted  and  sang.  —  Old  Song. 

WHAT  spins  around  "  like  all  git  out," 

And  swiftly  carries  me  about,  — 

So  light,  so  still,  so  bright  and  stout  ? 

My  Bicycle. 

Regard  me  now  where  I  sit  high  on 

Nag  forty  pound  of  mostly  iron  ; 

And  don't  you  wish  that  you  might  try  on 

My  Bicycle  ? 

Monstrum  informe,  ingens  !  some 
Cry,  seeing  first  this  courser  come. 
Our  "  fine  knee-action  "  strikes  them  dumb, 

My  Bicycle ! 

Calling  him  monster  from  the  east, 
And  both  a  lean  and  fatuous  beast, 
You  comprehend  not  in  the  least 

My  Bicycle. 


MY  BICYCLE.  2/ 

Revolve  it  in  your  mind,  and  my  way 
Will  show  to  be  a  more  than  guy  way  — 
High  way  of  riding  on  the  highway  — 

My  Bicycle. 

Those  now  who  stand  and  stare  and  say, 
O,  "  parce  no  bis,  s'il  vous  plait" 
Will  beg  to  tread,  another  day, 

My  Bicycle. 

What  tho'  Hans  Breitmann  did,  almost, 
And  Schnitzerlein  gave  up  the  ghost  ? 
T  was  all  because  they  could  n't  boast 

My  Bicycle. 

And  saying  mine,  I  do  not  mean 
There  are  not  many  others  seen 
Who  ride  like  me  on  my  machine, 

My  Bicycle. 

I  'm  not  stuck  up,  tho'  seated  high ; 
To  ride,  at  once,  and  run  and  fly  — 
My  pride  is  so  to  travel  by 

My  Bicycle. 


*8  MY  BICYCLE. 

Who  will  may  head  with  learning  stow, 
I  work  the  light,  ped  antic  toe  — 
'  T  is  cyclopedic  lore  to  know 

My  Bicycle. 

And  when  the  saddled  arc  I  span, 
What  care  I  for  the  fall  of  man  ? 
Let  him  remount !  I  always  can 

My  Bicycle. 

All  the  mutations  I  discern 

Of  men  and  States  not  me  concern, 

While  I  avoid  to  overturn 

My  Bicycle. 

See  Russia  rotten  Turkey  eat  — 
And  John  Bull  in  a  stewing  heat ; 
We  have  a  better  kind  of  meet, 

My  Bicycle. 

Then  hurry  spokes  and  spokesman  too, 
We  only  have  an  hour  or  so, 
And  almost  twenty  miles  to  go, 

My  Bicycle. 

1878. 


THE  CELESTIAL   CYCLER.  29 


TRANSLATIONS    VERY  MUCH  TRANS- 
LATED FROM  LONGFELLOW. 


THE    CELESTIAL    CYCLER. 

/  FROM    DANTE. 

SCENE,  Coast  near  Boston. 

AND  now,  behold  !  as  at  the  approach  of  morning  * 
Through  the  gross  vapors,  Sol  grows  fiery  round, 
Down  in  the  east  upon  the  ocean  floor, 

Appeared  to  me,  —  I  may  alway  behold  it !  — 
A  wheel  along  the  sea,  so  swiftly  coming, 
Its  motion  by  no  flight  of  wing  is  equalled. 

And  when  therefrom  I  had  withdrawn  a  little 
Mine  eyes,  that  I  might  question  Mr.  W-st-n, 
Again  I  saw  it  brighter  grown  and  larger. 


*  I  saw  from  the  beach,  when  the  morning  was  shining, 
A  -wheel  o'er  the  waters  move  gloriously  on.  —  MOORE. 


30  THE  CELESTIAL   CYCLER. 

Then  on  each  side  of  it  appeared  to  me 
I  knew  not  what  of  legs,  and  underneath, 
Little,  so  little!  there  came  forth  another. 

My  mentor  yet  had  uttered  not  a  word, 

While  the  first  brightness  into  wheels  unfolded ; 

But,  when  he  clearly  recognized  the  chariot, 

He  cried  aloud:  "Learn,  quick,  to  bow  the  knee 
And  hold  the  handles  !  Now,  get  up  thy  spunk  ! 
Henceforward  shalt  thou  see  such  bicyclers ! 

"  See,  how  he  scorns  all  common  arguments, 
So  that  no  horse  he  wants,  nor  other  speed 
Than  his  own  wheels,  between  all  distant  points. 

"See,  how  he  holds  them,  pointed  straight  to  Boston! 

Fanning  the  air  with  the  bicyclic  pinions, 

That  do  not  moult  themselves  like  mortal  hair." 

Then,  as  still  nearer  and  more  near  us  came 
The  Bird  of  Britain,  more  glorious  he  appeared 
On  that  —  the  eye  could  not  endure  his  presence  ; 


SONG   OF  THE  SILENT  WHEEL.         31 

But  down  he  cast  him,  and  he  came  to  ground 
By  a  small  footstep,  gliding  swift  and  light, 
So  that  the  cycles  wobbled  not  thereby. 

Upon  the  strand  stood  Bisakel  the  Angel ! 

Beatitude  seemed  written  in  his  face ! 

And  more  than  wine-red  spirits  shone  within. 

"  /;/  exitu  the  Yankees  out  of  Walking  !  " 
Thus  sang  we  three  together  in  one  voice, 

Like  whatso  in  that  Psalm  of  old  is  written. 

/ 

Then  made  he  sign  of  wheely  rood  upon  us ; 
Whereat  we  took  the  horse-car  for  the  town, 
And  he  sped  onward  swiftly  as  he  came. 


SONG   OF   THE    SILENT   WHEEL. 

UPON  the  Silent  Wheel  ! 

Ha !  who  shall  lift  us  thither  ? 

Life  in  its  middle  term  begins  to  wither, 

And  shaky  shanks  are  thinner  to  the  feel 


3-         SONG   OF  THE  SILENT   ll'JIEEL. 

Who  leads  us  with  a  gentle  zeal 
Thither  —  and  whither? 
Upon  the  silent  wheel  ? 

Upon  the  silent  wheel, 

Out  over  boundless  regions 

Of  equitation  !     Send  the  mounting  legions 

Of  youthful  souls,  the  future's  pledge  of  weal. 

Who  miles  on  axles  firm  can  reel, 

Shall  be  Health's  carrier  pigeons, 

Upon  the  silent  wheel ! 

On  WHEEL  and  wheel, 

To  all  the  book-besotted, 

The  eldest  heralds  of  the  gait  allotted 

Beckon,  and  with  reverted  looks  appeal, 

To  lead  us  with  a  gentle  zeal 

Into  the  seat  of  the  great  imported, 

Upon  the  silent  wheel ! 


THE   EARTH    HATH    ITS   GEMS. 

THE  earth  hath  its  gems, 
The  heaven  hath  its  stars ; 

But  my  heart,  my  heart, 
My  heart  hath  its  wheel. 


THE    WHEEL.  33 

Great  are  the  earth  and  the  heaven ; 

Yet  greater  is  my  heart, 
And  fairer  than  gems  and  stars 

Flashes  and  beams  my  wheel. 

Thou  little  youth,  and  man,  then, 

Come  unto  my  great  heart ; 
My  heart,  and  the  earth,  and  the  heaven, 

Are  fleeting  away  with  wheels. 


THE    WHEEL. 

"WHITHER,  on  whirling  wheel  ? 
Whither,  with  so  much  haste, 
As  if  a  thief  thou  wert  ?  " 

"  I  have  the  Wheel  of  life  ; 
Soiled  with  my  city's  dust, 
From  the  struggle  and  the  strife 
Of  the  narrow  street  I  fly 
To  the  Road's  felicity, 
To  clear  from  me  the  frown 
Of  the  moody  toil  of  town." 

(End  of  Translations.) 


34      PEGASUS  IN  (ABOUT  40)    POUND. 


PEGASUS    IN    (ABOUT  40)    POUND. 

Dies  rota,  dies  ilia. 

ONCE  into  a  quiet  city, 

Without  taste  and  without  feed, 
In  the  golden  prime  of  Autumn, 

Came  the  Briton's  iron  steed. 

Thereupon,  to  that  age  common, 
From  the  school-boys  was  abuse ; 

But  the  wise  men,  in  their  wisdom, 
Put  him  straightway  into  use. 

Then  two  morning  city  papers 
Both  allowed  his  praises  well  — 

Dealers  down  the  street  proclaiming 
There  were  bicycles  to  sell. 

And  the  curious  city  people, 

Rich  and  poor,  and  old  and  young, 

Came  in  haste  to  see  this  wondrous 
Wheely  steed,  with  wire  strung. 


PEGASUS  IN  (ABOUT  40)   POUND.        35 

Patiently  and  still,  expectant, 

Waited  he  of  flighty  limb, 
For  disporting  far  his  pinions 

In  the  triumph  meant  for  him. 

Then  with  circuits  wide  extended, 
Breaking  up  their  toil  and  care, 

Lo,  the  strange  steed  late  imported, 
Was  familiar  everywhere. 

And  they  found  within  thj  Eleventh  Ward, 
Where  the  cycling  club  had  meets, 

Pure  and  bright  example  flowing 
From  the  wheeling  in  the  streets. 

From  that  hour,  the  horse  unfailing 
Gladdens  the  whole  region  round, 

Strengthening  all  who  sit  his  saddle, 
While  he  bears  them  without  sound. 


36          THE  LADDER   OF  SI     HYGEIA. 
THE   LADDER   OF   ST    HYGEIA. 

MR.   SONGFELLOW     ASSISTED   TO    NEW    ALTITUDES. 

WELL,  Saint  Hygeia,  have  they  said 
That,  of  devices  we  can  frame, 

Your  bicycle  is  best  to  tread 
For  following  up  a  healthy  aim. 

All  common  folk  to  elevate, 

Who  wish  to  quicken  and  amend  — 

Its  flight  of  steps,  that  i  oiling  gait, 

Are  rounds  by  which  they  may  ascend. 

The  low-back  ones,  the  base  design, 
That  make  had  many  virtues  less ; 

Its  revels  here  in  'Sixty-nine 
Were  all  occasions  of  excess. 

The  longing  for  big  noble  things, 
The  time  for  triumph,  now  ensu'th, 

With  hardening  of  the  hand  that  brings 
Persistence  in  the  ways  of  youth. 


THE  LADDER   OF  ST.   HYGEIA.          37 

Small  draughts  of  ale  —  small  beers,  we  need, 
That  have  their  roots  in ;  cause  no  reel, 

And  never  wobble  nor  impede 
The  action  of  the  sober  wheel. 

Treadles  must  now  be  trampled  down 
Beneath  our  feet,  that  we  may  gain 

In  the  bright  roads  of  every  town 
The  right  of  evident  domain  ! 

Having  no  wings,  we  cannot  soar ; 

But  we  have  feet  and  hands  to  climb 
By  due  degrees,  by  more  and  more, 

The  saddled  summits  of  our  time. 

The  mighty  bicycles  of  John 

Bull  wedge-like  cleave  the  suburb  airs ; 
When  nearer  seen,  to  gad  upon, 

They  are  like  antic  flights  of  stairs 

O  'er  distant  green  hills  that  uprear 
Their  rounded  backs  toward  the  skies, 

Crossing  by  roadways  that  appear 
As  we  to  higher  levels  rise. 


33  THE  STILLY   ll'HEEL. 

The  seats  bicyclers  reached  and  kept, 
Were  not  secured  by  sudden  flight ; 

But  they,  while  their  companions  crept, 
Were  toiling  —  tumbling  left  and  right. 

Walking  is  what  was  long  a  bore 
WTith  persons  bent  on  exercise ; 

We  now  discern,  unseen  before, 
The  steps  to  higher  destinies. 

Nor  deem  the  boneshaker  of  the  past 
Is  wholly  wasted,  wholly  vain, 

As  rising  on  the  arch  at  last, 
To  cycling  nobler  we  attain. 


THE    STILLY    WHEEL. 

BY   MR.    LOXGFELLOE. 

Atispicc  Hygcid,  ct  sine  labe  perfect  us. 

NOWHERE  such  a  previous  steed, 
Not  in  fancy — even,  indeed, 
'Zekiel  saw  no  wheels  with  brake 
Linked  together  in  their  make. 


THE  STILLY  WHEEL.  39 

Man  on  little  leather  shelf  — 
Ever  balancing  itself, 
Goes  the  wheel  so  still  and  fast 
That  it  hardly  seems  to  haste. 

Never  charioteer  of  old, 
On  his  oaken  axle  rolled, 
Such  a  course  erect  pursued 
Through  the  gazing  multitude. 

Never  school-boy  in  his  zest 
For  all  spinning  things  the  best, 
Top,  or  hoop,  or  sling,  came  out 
Wandering  whirling  thus  about. 

As  the  mirror  of  its  ride, 
People  thickly  on  each  side 
Hang  converted,  and  between 
Floating  fly  the  lads  serene. 

Hawk  or  eagle  on  the  wing 
Seems  the  only  travelling 
Like  to  one  who  laughs  and  flies 
On  those  wheels'  contrasted  size. 


40  THE  STILLY  WHEEL. 

Silent  wheel  !   that  Indian  mood 
Fame  has  not  misunderstood ; 
For  thou  glidest  not  alone, 
111  content  to  be  unknown. 

And  thy  transits  softly  teach 
Wisdom  more  than  human  speech, 
Speeding  without  toil  or  noise 
In  unshaken  equipoise. 

Though  it  turneth  no  busy  mill, 
Yet,  so  stirring  and  so  still, 
Gives  some  moving  words  to  say 
To  the  traveller  on  his  way : 

"  Traveller,  hurrying  from  the  heat 
Of  the  city,  play  thy  feet ! 
Ride  a  wheel,  nor  longer  waste 
Life  with  inconsiderate  taste. 

"  Go  not  with  the  crowd  that  crawls 
Where  the  rattling  horse-car  hauls, 
Sit  the  quiet  nag  of  steel, 
Link  together  wheel  and  weal." 


BIC  YCLICALISTHENICS.  41 

BICYCLICALISTHENICS. 

BY   LONGFELLOW   ET   AL. 

O  GRACEFUL  one  that  fleetest  on,  thy  pace 
Is  an  aerial  promenade,  and  thy  form 
Goes  poised  as  if  it  floated  on  the  air, 
With  the  soft  ambulating  gait  of  one 
Who  timeth  all  his  motions  to  a  measure  ! 
Has  some  Prometheus  daringly  again 
Been  stealing  fire  from  Helios'  chariot-wheels 
To  light  bicycles  with,  and  make  them  spin  ? 
Who  thinks  of  bicycling  hath  already  taken 
One  step  upon  the  way  to  eminence  : 
Such  altitudes  delight  me  —  I  will  launch 
On  the  sustaining  wire,  nor  fear  to  fall 
Like  Icarus,  nor  serve  myself  like  him 
Who  drove  awry  Hyperion's  fiery  steeds. 
O  fortunate,  O  happy  day, 
When  a  new  cycle  bears  its  load 
Among  the  myriad  wheels  of  earth  ; 
Like  a  young  moon  just  spun  to  birth, 
It  rolls  on  its  harmonious  way 
Into  the  boundless  realms  of  road  ! 


42  TO    THE  ROVER   ONE. 

TO   THE   RiVER   RtfONE. 

BY   MR.    LONGMELLOW. 

THOU  rotal  Rover,  borne  thro*  sun  and  shower, 
In  steamers  pulsing  with  volcanian  glow, — 
Plated  in  spotless  nickel  as  the  snow, 
And  mocked  by  billows  !  —  at  the  anointing  hour, 
Forth,  like  an  ice-clad  Norseman  from  a  bower, 
With  dash  and  blink  of  farness  didst  thou  go 
To  meet  the  dazzled  tyros  that  below 
Push  to  achieve  thee  and  essay  thy  power. 
And  now  thou  provest  in  Mimphal  march 
A  king  among  the  wheelers  !     On  thy  way 
Hundreds  of  towns  await  and  welcome  thee  ; 
Elders  uplift  them  on  the  stately  arch, 
Fine  bards  delight  in  thee  with  lyrics  gay, 
And  fleet  thy  progress  on  from  sea  to  sea ! 


IT  is  a  little  wheel 

All  of  rubber  and  steel, 
With  a  big  one,  rather  fickle,  on  afor'ard ; 

And  when  it  is  good, 

It  is  very  very  good, 
But  when  it  is  bad,  it  is  horrid  ! 


YANKEE-LAND.  43 

YANKEE-LAND. 

No-vus  ordo  cyclorum. 

THE  destined  wheel  is  on  thy  shore, 

Yankeeland  ! 
Its  perch  is  at  thy  ample  door, 

Yankeeland  ! 

Ascend  the  gay  exotic  goer 
That  flashed  the  streets  of  Boston  o'er, 
And  beat  the  boneshaker  of  yore, 

Yankeeland,  my  Yankeeland  ! 

Hark  to  the  wondering  son's  appeal, 

Yankeeland  ! 
"  My  mother  dear,  I  want  a  wheel," 

Yankeeland  ! 

For  life  and  health,  for  "  go  "  and  weal, 
Thy  beardless  cavalry  reveal, 
And  speed  their  beauteous  limbs  with  steel ! 

Yankeeland,  my  Yankeeland  ! 

They  must  not  tumble  in  the  dust, 

Yankeeland  ! 
Their  beaming  steel  should  never  rust, 

Yankeeland  ! 


44 


That  slender  firmness  you  may  trust 
Like  slender  blades  in  warlike  thrust 
Held  by  those  numbered  with  the  just, 
Yankeeland,  my  Yankeeland  ! 

Come,  for  the  wheel  is  bright  and  strong, 

Yankeeland  ! 
Come,  for  thy  carriance  does  thee  wrong, 

Yankeeland  ! 

Come  for  thy  young  bard  in  the  throng, 
\Yho  stalks  with  levity  along, 
And  gives  a  new  key  to  much  song, 

Yankeeland,  my  Yankeeland  ! 

This  iron  forms  no  tyrant's  chain, 

Yankeeland  ! 
Britannia  now  sends  not  in  vain, 

Yankeeland  ! 

She  greets  her  kindred  o'er  the  main  — 
Slick  transit!  be  the  wild  refrain 
\Ve  shout  in  greeting  back  again, 

Yankeeland,  my  Yankeeland  ! 


ROTA    ET  ROTULA.  45 

ROTA   ET    ROTULA. 
BY   SENIOR. 

WHEN  life  is  lazy  in  my  veins, 

And  joy  is  gone  away,  — 
Although  my  legs'  November  lacks 

The  spring'ness  of  their  May, 
I  climb  and  scamper  off  on  that 

Will  warm  my  heart  to  move ; 
Tis  greater  wheel  and  lesser  wheel, 

On  the  leather  seat  above. 

The  guiding  wand  of  silver  hue, 

The  spinal  hollow  bright, 
With  nether  limbs  that  play  or  rest 

Like  creatures  of  delight ; 
Oh,  these  combine  a  stir  and  shine 

To  warm  old  hearts  to  move 
By  greater  wheel  and  lesser  wheel, 

On  the  russet  seat  above. 

The  great  white  wheel,  I  tread  it  as 

Switzer  his  mount  of  snow, 
And  much  the  good  me  there  befel 

That  many  more  can  know  : 


46  I  AY  OF    THE  PEDESTRIAN. 

For  a  quiet  sort  of  kindling  stuff 
To  warm  your  heart  to  move, 

Take  greater  wheel  and  lesser  wheel, 
On  the  leather  seat  above. 


LAY   OF   THE   PEDESTRIAN. 

Stet  quicunque  volet,  potens 
Rota  culmine  lubrico.  —  SENECA. 

TURN,  Cyclist,  turn  thy  wheel  and  lower  the  proud ; 
Turn  thy  still  wheel  past  steeds  and  coaches  loud ; 
Thy  wheel  and  thee  we  rather  like  than  hate. 

Turn,  Cyclist,  turn  thy  wheel  long  miles  from  town ; 
With  that  high  wheel  we  go  not  up  —  or  down; 
Our  speed  is  little,  but  our  prudence  great. 

Smile  we  to  see  you  up  in  many  lands  ; 
Down,  and  we  smile,  sure  of  our  feet  and  hands ; 
That  wheel  we  ride  not,  nor  deride,  but  wait. 

Turn,  turn  thy  wheel  above  the  walking  crowd  ; 
Thy  wheel  and  thou  are  greater  than  the  proud  ; 
Thy  wheel  and  thee  we  rather  like  than  hate. 


BJ 

THE  BICYCf$L£  47 

THE    BICYCLE. 

A.  T.  +D. 

SURE  never  yet  was  any  heel 

Could  flit  so  lightly  by. 
Keep  off,  or  else  my  bicycle 

Will  hit  you  coming  nigh. 

How  lightly  whirls  the  bicycle  ! 

How  fiery-like  you  fly! 
Go,  get  you  one ;  this  ticklish  wheel 

Be  taught  before  you  try. 

Thou  darest  —  give  me  now  to  reel 

The  rapid  miles,  or  die. 
There,  take  it,  take  my  bicycle 

And  break  your  neck  thereby. 


WE  love  that  wheel,  though  hard  and  cold, 
That  nickeled  shape  of  noble  mold  : 
Leads  a  new  cult,  saith  he  who  sings 
To  wiry  harp  of  many  tones 
That  men  so  rise  o'er  dust  and  stones 
From  their  old  selves  to  higher  things. 


48  HASTE  NOT,  PAUSE  NOT. 

HASTE    NOT,    PAUSE    NOT. 

N'EWLY  TRANSLATED  FROM  OLD  GOEASY  (OFTEN  SPELT 
GOETHE).* 

\YITHOUT  pause,  without  haste! 
Print  the  motto  in  thy  breast; 
Bear  it  with  you  as  a  spell 
When  you  ride  the  bicycle. 
Cobblestones  may  bring  you  down  — 
Bear  right  onward  out  of  town. 

Haste  not !     Let  no  reckless  deed 
Mar  for  aye  the  slender  steed. 
Balance  well,  and  keep  the  right, 
Onward  then  with  all  delight. 
Haste  not !     Years  may  ne'er  atone 
For  one  "  nasty  cropper  "  done. 

Pause  not !     Teams  are  sweeping  by  ; 
Tumble  there  not,  lest  you  die. 
Nothing  mighty  and  sublime 
Thus  to  fall  before  your  time. 
Glorious  't  is  to  live  to  ride, 
While  these  forms  of  ours  abide. 

*  Schiller?  —  trust  not  the  "  Rev"  editor  of  hymns. 


THE  STEED   OF  FIRE.  49 

Haste  not,  pause  not !     Calmly  sit ; 
Meekly  bear  a  front  of  grit. 
Heed  not  boys  that  cry  thee  "  Whoa, 
Emma  "  —  let  them  see  thee  go. 
Duly  wag  thy  pivot  guide, 
Take  the  right,  whate'er  betide. 
Haste  not,  pause  not !     Trials  past, 
Health  shall  crown  thy  work  at  last. 


THE  STEED  OF   FIRE. 

FROM    POE'S    "  ELDORADO"   —FABLED   GOLDEN    MADE 
TRUE    STEEL. 

SOBERLY  dight, 

A  modern  knight 
Upon  a  hack  of  hire 

Had  journeyed  long 

Singing  a  song 
In  search  of  a  steed  of  fire. 

But  he  grew  old, 
This  knight,  tho'  bold, 


50  THE  STEED   OF  /«7AV:. 

With  o'er  his  In-art  a  dire 
1  himj)  as  he  found 
Nothing  around 

That  looked  like  a  steed  of  Tire. 

And  as  his  strength 
Waned,  he  at  length 

Met  a  bicycling  flyer : 
"  Flyer,"  said  he, 
"  What !  can  it  be  — 

Can  this  be  the  steed  of  fire  ? " 

"  Upon  this  mount 

We  surely  count, 
T  is  all  you  can  desire  ; 

Ride,  boldly  ride," 

Cycler  replied, 
"  If  you  seek  for  a  steed  of  fire  !  " 

He  dried  his  tears, — 
And  shed  his  years, 

All  on  the  windy  wire  ; 
And  sweeps  along 
Singing  much  song 

In  praise  of  the  steed  of  fire. 


BISAKEL.  5 1 

BISAKEL. 

"ISRAFEL,"    BY  POE,   RECAST   FOR   A   NEW   ROLL. 

The  angel  Bisakel,  whose  wings  are  wheels,  has  the  fleetest  pace  of 
all  God's  creatures.  —  Koran. 

IN  heaven  a  spirit  doth  dwell 

Whose  great  wing  is  a  wheel. 
None  fly  so,  wildly  well 
As  the  angel  Bisakel, 
And  the  giddy  stars,  so  legends  say, 
Slowing  their  course,  attend  the  play 

Of  his  wondrous  heel. 

Maturing  her  age, 

In  her  highest  noon, 

The  enamelled  moon 
Reddens  with  rage, 

And  to  witness,  with  misgivin', 
(With  the  nautic  Pleiads  even, 

More  than  seven,) 

Pauses  in  heaven. 

And  they  say  (the  starry  choir 
And  the  other  gossiping  things) 


BISAK'EL. 

That  r.isakcli's  fire 
Is  owing  to  that  tire 

O'er  which  he  sits  and  Clings 
The  trembling  living  \\iiv 

Of  those  unusual  wings. 

But  surely  that  angel  trod 

Treadles  amazing  flighty ; 
And,  for  a  gay  young  god, 

There  bicycling  houris  are 
His  rivals  —  Aphrodite 

Transports  faster  than  a  star  ! 

The  zealousy  he  took 

With  such  company  to  deal  — 

His  leg  and  style,  his  pure  caoutchouc, 
With  the  fervor  of  his  wheel  — 
Well  may  the  stars  go  reel ! 

We  say  thou  art  not  wrong, 

Bisakeli,  who  despisest 
Feathers  and  psalming  song ; 
Bloom  thou  the  laurels  among, 

Best  angel  and  the  wisest,  — 
Merrily  lire,  and  long! 


GRAND 

—  Ah,  heaven  is  his'n,  indeed7 
This  world  is  sweets  and  sours ; 
Our  powers  are  puny  powers, 

And  the  slowest  of  his  perfect  speed 
Is  the  swiftest  of  ours. 

If  I  could  dwell 
Where  Bisakel 

Hath  dwelt,  and  he  where  I, 
He  might  not  spin  so  wildly  well 

Our  mortal  wheelery, 
While  a  better  song  than  now  might  swell 

From  my  lyre  within  the  sky  — 

But  —  how  is  this  "  for  high  "  ? 


GRAND    CHORUS. 

J.    D.    +   D. 

AT  last  great  Bisakeli  came, 
Inventor  of  the  rotal  frame  ; 
The  fleet  enthusiast,  from  his  starry  store, 

Enlarged  the  former  rattling  rounds, 
And  added  height  to  hushed  sounds, 
4 


54  OWED   TO   THE  DICYCL1-. 

With  Britain's  mother-wit,  and  arts  unknown  before. 
His  new  machine  deserves  the  prize, 
To  that  award  the  crown  ; 
It  raises  mortals  toward  the  skies, 
And  draws  an  angel  down. 


OWED   TO   THE   BICYCLE. 
(AND  PAID  IN  ALTERED  NOTES  FROM  TOM  MOOKI 

IT  came  o'er  the  sea, 
My  Cycle  to  me, 

Came  thro'  sunshine,  storm,  and  snows ; 
Rubber  and  steel, 
This,  the  true  wheel, 
Turns  the  same  where'er  it  goes. 
Tho'  fate  may  frown,  so  I  ride  and  fall  not, 
Tis  life  on  the  wing,  a  life  that  can  pall  not. 
Thou  cam'st  o'er  the  sea, 
Bicycle,  to  me, 

Came  whence  chilly  our  east  wind  blows ; 
Seas  may  congeal, 
But  the  true  wheel 
Turns  the  same  where'er  it  goes. 


THOSE  BICYCLES.  55 

Was  not  the  sea 

Made  to  bring  thee  ? 
Land  for  roads  and  rides  alone  ? 

Once  walking  slaves, 

Cycle  us  saves, — 
Wheel  and  liberty  's  all  our  own. 
No  fare  to  pay,  no  limits  to  bound  us, 
The  town  behind,  and  the  country  around  us  — 

Thou  cam'st  o'er  the  sea, 

Bicycle,  to  me, 
Came  thro'  sunshine,  storm,  and  snows ; 

Seas  may  congeal, 

But  thy  true  wheel 
Turns  the  same,  where'er  it  goes ! 


THOSE    BICYCLES. 
IN    MIDSUMMER. 

THOSE  bicycles,  those  bicycles  ! 
How  merry  a  tale  their  image  tells, 
Of  youth  and  health,  and  that  fleet  time 
When  last  I  heard  their  whistle's  chime. 


56  ANACREON:  ODE  XXXIX. 

Those  boyous  hours  are  passed  away ; 
And  many  a  heart  that  then  was  gay, 
Out  of  or  in  town  darkly  dwells, 
And  rides  not  now  those  bicycles. 

Again  'twill  be  —  they  are  not  gone  ; 
That  gleeful  wheel  will  still  roll  on, 
While  I  help  bards  to  wire  their  shells 
And  sing  your  praise,  fleet  bicycles. 


ANACREON:    ODE  XXXIX. 

MO(0)RE   TRANSLATED   THAN    EVER. 

How  I  love  the  restive  boy, 
Tripping  on  the  wheel  of  joy ! 
How  I  love  the  mellow  sage, 
Rolling  up  the  hill  of  age ! 

And  whene'er  the  man  of  years 
On  the  wheel  of  boy  appears, 
Snows  may  o'er  his  head  be  hung, 
But  his  heart  and  heels  are  young. 


ROTAL  POESY.  57 

ROTAL  POESY. 

BY    T.   W.  O. 

WHO  comes  so  rollicking, 

Riding  along, 
While  the  blue  poetess 

Frets  at  his  song  ? 
Song,  she  says,  vying 
With  the  high  crying 
WTild  geese  in  flying 

Samely  prolong. 

Not  so  the  ragged  boy 

By  the  wayside, 
Watching  that  bicycle 

Down  the  road  glide, 
Wire  bird  winging, 
Thro*  the  dust  bringing 
That  rhymer  singing 

To  the  hushed  ride. 

"  Stay,"  said  the  little  boy, 

"  Bicycle,  stay ; 
Linger,  sweet  ballader, 

Linger,  I  say." 


5  8  FROM  THE  GREEK. 

Swiftly  proceeding 
Past  both,  unheeding, 
Song  and  wheel  speeding 
Glided  away. 

So  to  all  youthful  eyes 

Bicycles  shone ; 
Every  bard  able  was 
Forced  to  get  on, 
Editors  declining 
Some  things  combining 
Two  in  one  shining. 
Who  's  the  next  one  ? 


FROM    THE    GREEK. 

BY   T.    M.  +  D. 

IF  you  ride  upon  horses  or  asses, 
You  '11  never  write  anything  nice  ; 

The  wheel 's  the  true  steed  of  Parnassus. 
Which  carries  a  bard  to  the  skies. 


THE  DANDY  BICYCLER.  59 


THE    DANDY    BICYCLER. 

Cyclus  Scintillans. 

RICH  and  fair  were  the  wheels  he  sat, 
And  he  had  on  his  head  a  strange  club  hat ; 
But  his  gay  leggings  were  far  beyond 
His  sparkling  spokes  or  level  wand. 

"  Laddy  !  dost  thou  not  fear  to  stray 

Alone,  bicycling  through  this  by-way  ? 

Are  Erin's  sons  so  peaceable  grown 

As  not  to  be  tempted  to  throwing  the  stone  ? " 

"  Old  man,  I  feel  not  the  least  alarm, 

No  son  of  Erin  will  offer  me  harm ; 

For  though  they  love  mischief  and  rows  galore, 

Old  man,  they  love  manly  exertion  more." 

On  he  went  there,  more  than  a  mile, 
In  safety,  and  bright  as  their  own  green  isle ; 
And  wholly  correct  is  he  who  relied 
Upon  Cycle's  glamour  —  and  Erin  beside. 


60  MAGNALTA    CYC  LI. 

MAGNALIA   CYCLI. 

A   LA 


MOUNT  bicycle  fair  ! 

Every  spoke  you  twinkle 
From  the  face  of  Care 

Charms  away  a  wrinkle. 
Health's  rekindled  flame 

None  so  surely  feels 
As  he  thro*  whose  frame 

It  shoots  from  saddled  wheels. 

Franklin  did,  they  say, 

Tame  the  lightning's  pinions, 
And  drew  down  one  day 

Fire  from  cloud  dominions  ; 
So  new  poets  sit, 

On  bicycles  bright'ning, 
From  the  heaven  of  wit 

Borrowing  its  lightning. 

Topping  youth  are  up 

Lyric  heights  aspirin', 
And  no  vinous  cup 

Mix  their  finer  fire  in  ; 


MY  MOBILE   NUMBERS.  6 1 

While  they  gods  enact 

Clad  in  light  apparel, 
Jove  on  his  eagle  backed, 

Bacchus  on  his  barrel ! 


MY   MOBILE   NUMBERS. 

NOT  quite  every  day  am  I 

Fit  for  moving  poesy ; 

But  when  on  the  reliable 

Firm-elastic  bicycle, 

O'er  the  wires  I  rewrite 

As  the  godhead  may  incite  — 

Like  the  wires,  then  I  sing, 

Bisakel  inspiriting. 

Thus  engaged  our  lines  are  whirled 

With  bicycle's  thro'  the  world.  .  .  . 

Who  tunes  next  the  wheely  lyre  ? 

Herrick  slacks  and  doth  retire ; 

So  my  fancy  cools,  till  when 

Some  right  spirit  come  agen. 


LET  those  ride  now  who  seldom  rode  before, 
And  those  who  often  rode,  now  ride  the  more. 


62  "MUSIC"   ON   THE    WIRE. 

LITTLE   MISS   LOQUITUR. 

HY     T.    W.    o. 

WHENAS  on  wheels  my  Johnny  goes, 
Then,  then  methinks,  how  fleetly  shows 
That  lively  action  of  his  hose. 

And  when  I  cast  mine  eyes  and  see 
What  brave  vibration  wires  be, 
Oh,  how  that  glittering  taketh  me ! 


"MUSIC"   ON   THE    WIRE. 

WM.   STRODE,  ABOUT    1630,  —  NOW   RIDES. 

WHEN  seniors  tread  the  cranky  wheel, 

From  creeping  passing  to  that  art, 
And  when  at  every  turn  we  feel 
Our  pulses  stir  and  bear  a  part ; 
When  wires  can  make 
The  heartstrings  wake ; 
Philosophy 
Cannot  deny 
The  wheel  is  made  of  jollity. 


"MC/S/C"  ON  THE    WIRE.  63 

When  with  excursive  boys  we  train, 

Where'er  the  wheel  affecteth  most ; 
And  sometimes  singing,  will  maintain 
Bicyclers  mid  the  heavenly  host,  — 
In  lays  we  think 
Make  poets  blink  ; 
Philosophy 
Cannot  deny 
The  wheel  consists  of  jollity. 

Thus  did  the  flighty  bicycle 

My  senses  rock  with  motion  sweet ; 
Like  wool  *  on  snow  its  paces  fell, 
Soft  like  a  spirit's,  and  as  fleet. 
Grief  who  needs  feel 
That  hath  a  wheel  ? 
Up  let  him  hie, 
And  clambering  fly, 
And  change  his  dole  for  jollity. 


UNLESS  hereby  above  himself  he  can 
Erect  himself,  how  poor  a  thing  is  man  ! 

*  Laneos  pedes. 


64  THE  WHEEL-SHOP. 


ROTA  ANGLICA. 

()  WIIFF.I.  of  wire,  misjudged  by  walking  man, — 

The  power  of  John  Bull's  pace, 
What  rides  are  here  since  thou  and  Jonathan 

First  greeted  face  to  face  ! 
He  doomed  to  creep,  thou  on  him  didst  impress 
The  pattern  of  a  ruddy  wheeliness. 

Yes,  it  was  well ;  for  so,  mid  cares  that  rule 

Us  men  to  business  tied, 
The  charm  uplifts  us  from  the  chair  and  stool 

To  seats  before  untried. 

We  wheel  our  course  like  pigeons  or  like  hawks ; 
Who  rides  with  us  he  flies,  he  is  but  dust  who  walks. 


THE   WHEEL-SHOP. 

YOUNG  Sixty  went  there,  and  soon  met  with  a  Friend  ; 
Folks  say  in  his  tights  he  's  now  going  on  end  ! 
Then  why  should  not  I  the  same  method  pursue, 
And  quicken  my  paces  as  other  boys  do? 

Forty. 


CARMEN  BICYCLICUM.  65 

CARMEN   BICYCLICUM. 

BY   T.   W.   O. 

BICYCLING  bloods  go  forth  to  war 

Hygeia's  crown  to  gain  ; 
Her  rosy  banner  streams  afar,  — 

Who  follows  in  their  train  ? 

Who  best  can  sit  his  pig-skin  perch, 

Triumphant  over  bane, 
Who  patient  bears  his  jolt  or  lurch, 

He  follows  in  their  train. 

That  lawyer  first,  whose  eagle  eye 

Could  look  beyond  the  law, 
Rode  forty  miles  upon  the  fly, 

Wrote  what  he  did  and  saw ; 

And  one  who  raids  it  into  Song, 

'Midst  some  immortal  strain, 
Rewriting  poets  where  they  're  wrong  ; 

Who  follows  in  their  train  ? 


66  CARMEN  BICYCLR  Y  '.!/. 

A  glorious  band,  the  chosen  club, 

On  whom  the  spirit  came, 
Twelve  valiant  saints,  their  hope  the  Hub 

Would  mock  not  at  the  same ; 

They  met  the  Briton's  burnished  steel, 

The  Lion's  narrow  wain  ; 
They  bowed  their  necks  to  mount  the  wheel,  - 

Who  follows  in  their  train  ? 

This  mobile  band  of  men  and  boys, 

With  many  converts  made, 
Around  the  State  unthrown  rejoice, 

In  garments  light  arrayed. 

They  climbed  the  steep  ascent  to  saddle 

Thro'  trifling  toil  and  pain  ; 
May  all  yet  have  the  grace  to  paddle 

And  follow  in  their  train  ! 


BENEATH  the  roll  of  men  on-tirely  great 
The  Wheel  is  mightier  than  the  Horse. 


FLEET  WHEEL.  67 

FLEET  WHEEL. 
"SWEET  HOME"  MADE  MORE  MOVING. 

WITH  coaches  and  palace-cars  though  we  may  deal, 
Be  it  even  to  tumble,  there's  no  seat  like  wheel ! 
A  charm  from  the  skies  ever  follows  us  there, 
Which,  riding  enclosed,  is  not  met  anywhere. 

Wheel,  wheel,  fleet  wheel ! 

There  's  no  seat  like  wheel ! 

Apart  from  the  wheel,  metals  dazzle  in  vain  ! 
O  give  me  my  high  bright  bicycle  again  ! 
The  boys  mounting  gaily  that  came  at  the  call ; 
O  give  me  fleet  pace  of  leg,  dearer  than  all ! 

Wheel,  wheel,  fleet  wheel ! 

There  's  no  seat  like  wheel ! 

How  fleet  'tis  to  flit  o'er  a  three-minute  mile, 
And  all  cares  and  the  bother  of  work  to  beguile  ! 
Let  others  go  fight,  or  gold  treasures  reveal, 
But  give  me  to  shoot  for  the  pleasures  of  wheel ! 

Wheel,  wheel,  fleet  wheel ! 

But  give  me  the  speeding 

And  pleasures  of  wheel. 


68  WHAT  TO  DO. 

To  that  I  will  turn  when  allured  by  the  fur. 
The  heart's  merest  follies  can  catch  me  not  there 
And  more  with  bicycle  than  rum  will  I  reel  — 
Be  it  even  to  tumble,  there's  nothing  like  wheel. 

Wheel,  wheel,  fleet  wheel ! 

There  's  nothing  like  wheel. 


SECOND   YOUTH. 

MY  native  youth,  when  I  did  love 

And  thought  it  very  sweet, 
Was  highly  gay  in  many  a  way, 

Though  but  lowly  moved  my  feet. 

Now,  when  lame  age  with  stealing  pace 
Caught  at  me  with  his  crutch, 

I  vaulted  over  the  saddle  of  wheel  — 
I  will  have  nothing  of  such  ! 


WHAT   TO   DO. 

IF  sad  that  Fortune's  wheel  can't  use  thee  well. 
And  seeking  for  some  surer  "  dear  Gazelle," 
Cheer  up,  step  up,  and  try  the  bicycle. 


HIS  FIRST  RIDE.  69 


HIS    FIRST    RIDE. 

By  Sir  Frightful  Plagiary 
Taken  from  Miss  Alice  Carey. 

EARTH  with  its  slow  and  tiresome  ills 

Recedes  some  feet  away ; 
Lift  up  y'r  heads,  ye  neighboring  hills, 

I  'm  coming  out  your  way ! 

My  soul  is  full  of  pilfered  song, 
Highwayvnzrfs  is  my  right ; 

Bicycles  that  I  feared  too  long, 
Are  things  of  life  —  and  light. 

My  pulses  fast  and  fearless  beat, 
My  limbs  seek  wider  bounds, 

I  feel  grow  firm  beneath  my  feet 
The  rubber  pedal  rounds. 

A  Fifty-inch  the  courage  gives 

High  as  the  brave  to  go ; 
Same  force  in  my  two-wheeler  lives, 

Our  circulations  show. 


70  "MORTALITY"  ENLIVENED. 

This  is  the  safe  and  narrow  way  — 
The  wires  sini;  in  the  wind  — 

To  men  on  horse  of  flesh  I  say, 
I  Ve  no  such  carnal  mind. 

In  palace-cars  I  would  not  be, 
Where  rides  the  railroad  king ; 

O  steam,  where  is  thy  victory  ? 
O  bird,  where  is  thy  wing  ? 

N.  B.  —  He  came  a  nasty  cropper  and  back  by  rail  ! 


"MORTALITY"   ENLIVENED. 

Made  from  William  Knox's  song, 
Twice  as  true,  and  half  as  long. 

WHY  should  not  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud  ? 
Like  a  fast  fleeting  meteor,  a  fast  flying  cloud, 
The  sweep  of  the  foam  on  the  crest  of  a  wave, 
He  passes  from  town  on  his  bicycle  brave ! 

The  lad  on  whose  cheek,  on  whose  brow,  in  whose 

eye, 
Shine  beauty  and  pleasure  —  he  triumphs  to  fly; 


"MORTALITY"   ENLIVENED.  7l 

And  the  memory  of  those  boneshakers  once  praised 
Is  away  from  the  minds  of  the  lively  erased. 

So  the  two-wheeler  goes,  like  the  flourishing  weed, 
That  withers  away  to  let  flowers  succeed ; 
So  the  two-wheeler  conies  —  even  those  we  behold, 
To  reseat  every  tail  on  the  bicycle  bold. 

We  are  not  the  same  sort  that  our  fathers  have  been, 
Nor  see  the  same  sights  that  our  fathers  have  seen  • 
We  drink  the  same  stream,  and  we  feel  the  same  sun, 
But  run  not  the  same  course  that  our  fathers  have  run. 

The  thoughts  we  are  thinking,  could  our  fathers  think  ? 
From  "  Spirits  "  we  're  not  shrinking  from,  how  they 

did  shrink  ! 

To  the  wheel  we  are  clinging  to,  they  too  would  cling, 
For  it  speeds  on  the  road  like  a  bird  on  the  wing. 

They  died  —  without  Ride  !   had  they  things  we  have 

now, 

Who  race  on  the  turf  that  lies  over  their  brow, 
They  'd  made  in  their  dwellings  a  transient  abode, 
To  have  bicycle-meets  on  their  pilgrimage  road. 


SOA'G    TO  BISAKEL. 

'Tis  the  wink  of  an  eye,  't  is  the  wn-  of  a  tail, 
To  the  blossom  of  health  from  the-drudgery  pale,  - 
From  the  gilded  saloon  of  the  beer  and  the  crowd  - 
Why  should  not  the  mortal  of  spirit  be  proud  ? 


SONG   TO   BISAKEL. 

(Deus  ex  Machinci.     The  Prince  of  Pace. ) 

To  Bisakel  we  sing  to-day, 
Whose  steely  beams  with  fancy  play, 
And  make  his  wheels  so  brightly  shine 
Aurora's  face  is  less  divine. 
Sing  him,  and  to  the  sliding  throne 
Of  sparkles  which  he  goes  upon, 
lo  Paeans  let  us  sing, 
No  physic  !     Bisakel  is  king. 

Sound  all  his  praises  with  right  fire, 
Captive  bards  support  the  lyre ; 
With  laurelled  helmet  for  his  head, 
Disciples  dance  about  his  tread ; 
5 


WHERE'S  MY  JOHN?  73 

When  on  his  rushing  wire  he  plays, 
Scatter  roses  round,  and  bays. 

lo  Paeans  let  us  sing 

To  the  bright  pedalian  king. 


WHERE'S    MY  JOHN? 

BY   T.    W.    O. 

"  Ho,  Cycler  from  the  road  ! 
Where  's  my  boy  —  my  boy  ?  " 
"  What 's  the  boy's  name,  good  wife, 
And  what  is  the  make  he  strode  ? " 

"  My  boy  John  — 

He  that  went  to  ride  — 

What !  I  'm  not  on  the  '  make/  Cycler ; 

My  boy,  my  boy  's  my  pride. 

"  You  come  back  to  town, 

And  not  seen  my  John  ? 

I  might  as  well  have  asked  some  hodman 

Down  there  in  the  town. 

There  's  not  your  likes  in  all  the  county, 

But  he  knows  my  John. 


74  WHEREAS  MY  JOH.\  > 

"  Where  's  my  boy  —  my  boy  ? 

Speak  louder,  and  let  me  know, 

Or  I  swear  you  are  no  cycler, 

Tight  breeches  or  no, 

Gay  leggings  or  no,  Cycler, 

Whistle  and  such  or  no ! 

Sure  his'n  is  called  a  Jolly  Briton." 

"  He  rode  too  fast,  too  fast." 

"  And  why  should  I  be  fast,  Cycler  ? 

That  have  my  own  boy  John  ! 

If  I  was  stout  as  I  am  proud 

I  'd  bang  you  over  the  crown  ! 

Where  's  my  boy,  my  John,  Cycler?  " 

"  That  big  wheel  went  down." 

"  Where  's  my  boy  —  my  boy  ? 

What  care  I  for  the  wheel,  Cycler  ? 

I  was  never  a-top  it. 

Be  it  running  or  on  the  ground, 

Whether  or  no,  though,  I  '11  be  bound, 

My  Johnny  would  n't  swap  it. 

I  say,  where  's  my  John  ?  " 

"  Every  man  on  wheels  goes  down, 

When  a  man  can't  stop  it." 


CAREFUL  SENIORS  SONG.  75 

"  Where  's  my  boy  —  my  boy  ? 
What  care  I  for  the  men,  Cycler  ? 
That  am  John's  mother  ! 
Where  's  my  boy  —  my  boy  ? 
Tell  me  of  him,  and  no  whopper." 
"  He  came  a  NASTY  CROPPER  !  " 


NOTE.  —  The  original  of  the  above  seemed  well  worth  capturing,  in 
spite  of  the  severe  verdict  (in  another  connection)  of  a  brother  rhymer 
in  a  New  York  paper  :  — 

"  The  fellah  th-that  steals  from  Sydney  Dobell 
Is  a  wegular  lunatic." 

A  charge  of  cruelly  kidnapping  an  only  child  might  hold.  Methinks 
I  hear  a  wailing  voice,  — 

Ho,  rider  of  the  B  ! 

Where  's  my  poem  —  my  poem  ? 


CAREFUL  SENIOR'S  SONG. 

Dum  vivimus  volvamus. 

ENGLAND  —  how  wide  her  glory  shines, 

How  high  her  seats  arise  ! 
Known  thro'  the  earth  by  thousand  signs, 

By  two  signs  in  the  skies. 


76  CAREFUL  SENIOR'S  SONG. 

Bicyclus  thence,  that  art  the  best, 

The  true  and  living  wheel, 
Upborne  upon  that  buoyant  crest, 

No  feebleness  I  feel. 

Quickened  thereon,  and  made  alive, 

I  equitate  afoot ; 
My  life  I  from  thy  top  derive, 

My  vigor  from  the  shoot. 

Grafted  on  thee  I  reach  the  sky  — 

At  least,  I  think  I  will, 
For  seated  more  than  four  feet  high, 

My  soul  mounts  higher  still. 

Careful  throughout  Ward  Elev'n  I  drove, 

From  all  destruction  free ; 
My  hands  were  well  engaged  above, 

My  legs  were  still  with  thee. 

Too  long,  alas,  my  devious  feet 
The  sidewalk  ways  have  trode  ; 

Henceforth  I  '11  travel  in  the  street, 
O  wheel,  or  on  the  road. 


CAREFUL   SENIOR'S  SONG.  77 

My  walking  beams  were  feeble  sticks, 

Slower  and  shorter*  then  ; 
I  was,  before,  but  five  feet  six, 

And  now  I  'm  five  feet  ten ! 

Yet  many  tread  a  higher  crank, 

All  modest  is  my  zeal, 
I  make  the  limits  of  my  shank 

The  bounds  unto  my  wheel. 

I  clip  high-climbing  thoughts  at  sight 

Of  rounds  of  swelling  pride ; 
Their  fate  is  worse  that  from  the  height 

Of  s4xty  inches  slide. 

When  cobblestones  and  crossings  show 

Like  breakers  unto  me, 
I  do  whatever  I  can  do, 

And  leave  the  rest  to  thee. 

If  casual  falls  delay  our  pace, 

Together  we  arise ; 
Quickly  I  reassume  my  place, 

And  ride  for  exercise. 

*  Four  years  ago  "  Mr.  Punch  "  queried  as  to  the  growing  diameter 
-)f  the  wheel  and  its  effects  en  length  of  limb  in  the  future. 


78  CUR  RENTE  BICYCLO. 


BY  fall  of  wheels,  and  autumn  years, 
Forewarned  to  be  more  wary, 

In  'Eighty- two  he  calmly  steers 
A  safe  Xtraordinary. 


WHEEL    VS.   HORSE. 

WHEN  thou  wouldst,  O  man,  go  ride, 
On  the  big  bicycle  glide  ; 
Drive  it  round  with  sturdy  glee, 
Tis  the  fittest  horse  for  thee. 
Prancers  and  trotters  and  pacers, 
Dexter  and  Maud  S.,  the  racers, 
Iroquois,  Foxhall,  that  for  us 
Beat  those  of  Gaul  and  John  Taurus, 
Though  they  be  horses  of  quality, 
Match  not  the  bicycle's  jollity. 


CURRENTE   BICYCLO. 

UP- ATOP- OF-THE- WHEEL  young  man, 
Sort  of  cavalry-club  young  man, 

A  spinner  and  spurter, 

And  fall-in-the-dirter, 
More  a  leggy  than  army  young  man. 


RATHER    THAN  ROTA.  79 

RATHER   THAN    ROTA. 

RATHER  take  Spring  out  the  year, 

Or  from  Spring  her  flowers, 
Have  no  grassy  green  appear 

All  my  Summer  hours  ; 
Than  take  Rota  and  its  praise, 
Rolling  Rota,  from  my  days  ! 

From  the  toper  take  his  horn, 

Whether  sweet  or  bitter, 
Let  no  "  blossom  "  red  adorn 

Him  a  bottle-quitter : 
Not  take  Rota  and  its  art, 
Rolling  Rota,  from  my  heart. 

Pierce  the  homeward  carrier-dove 

With  an  arrow  speeding, 
And  arrest  her  flight  of  love 

Hawk  or  storm  unheeding  : 
Rota  let  fly  whereso  bent  — 
Only  in  midwinter  pent ! 

JUVENIS. 


80  THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  STUD. 

THE    PILGRIM. 

BY   SIR    WALTER   ROLLY. 

GIVE  me  my  bicycle  of  quiet, 

My  horse  of  health  to  walk  upon ; 

Enough  of  not  pultaceous  diet,  — 

My  tin  of  lubrication ; 

My  hose  and  breeches  (leg's  true  gauge) ; 

And  thus  I  '11  take  my  pilgrimage. 

Then  every  happy  day  I  beg 

More  paceful  pilgrims  I  may  see, 
That  have  cast  off  their  nags  of  leg, 

And  ride  a-wheelback,  just  like  me. 


THE    LIGHT   OF   THE   STUD. 

BICYCLE  's  the  sun  of  our  stable, 

His  beams  the  spokes  so  fine; 
We  planets  that  so  are  able 

With  him  to  roll  and  shine. 
Let  circling  mirth  abound  ; 

We  '11  all  grow  bright 

With  borrowed  light, 
And  shine  as  he  goes  round. 


CYCLUS  PRO  ME   PREPARATUS.  8 1 

CYCLUS    PRO   ME   PREPARATUS. 

BY   AUGUSTUS   MOUNTAGEN   TOPWHEELY. 

WHEEL  of  England  sent  for  me, 
Let  me  ride  myself  on  thee  : 
Let  the  young  bicycling  blood, 
Who  the  driven  sides  hath  trod 
Of  the  crackly  double  goer, 
Teach  me  too  its  speed  and  power. 

Labors  of  my  head  and  hands 
Not  fulfil  my  law's  demands ; 
Could  my  toil  no  respite  know, 
And  my  coffers  overflow, 
For  ill-health  would  not  atone  — 
One  must  save  can't  stand  alone. 

Rein  nor  whip  in  hand  I  bring, 
Simply  to  the  cross  I  cling ; 
Cap  and  breeches  have  for  dress 
And  the  coat  of  wheeliness. 
Fowl  and  Time  and  riches  fly, 
Dash  me,  Cycle,  so  can  I  ! 


82  A   IIYMNLET. 

While  I  drive  this  fleeting  wheel 
Oft  my  trusty  brake  I  feel; 
When  I  go  down  hills  unknown, 
S'pose  I  do  get  sometimes  thrown  ? 
Wheel  of  England  sent  for  me, 
Let  me  ride  myself  on  thee  ! 


A   HYMNLET. 

Beati  possidentes. 

HAPPY  are  we  whose  joys  abound 

High  on  the  whirling  rim, 
Who  Bicycle  indeed  have  found, 

And  give  the  praise  to  him. 

I  leave  the  earth,  I  rise  and  go, 

To  be  upheld  and  blest ; 
His'n  are  both  my  soles  below, 

And  that  within  my  breast. 

Long  may  we  tread  the  rapid  wheel 

With  undiverted  feet ; 
And  strength  subdue,  and  flaming  zeal, 

The  steepest  grades  we  meet. 


ro 

A   PENSIVE  SONGL 

A   PENSIVE   SONGLET. 

THE  young  who  with  rejoicing  feel 
The  opening  of  life's  sunny  day, 

These  are  who  hail  the  winged  wheel 
In  all  its  bright  and  steel  array. 

Ride  the  bicycles  while  ye  may, 
Old  Time  is  faster  flying,  flying, 

And  what  gay  youth  goes  miles  today, 
Tomorrow  may  be  lying  dying. 

s.  A.  D. 


THE   PHANTOM    OF    DELIGHT. 

A   WORDSWORTHY   VARIATION    BY   A   RYDAL    BARD. 

IT  was  a  phantom  of  delight 
When  first  it  gleamed  upon  my  sight ; 
A  lively  apparition  sent, 
To  captivate  a  continent. 


84  THE  PHANTOM  OF  DELIGHT. 

It-  -pokes  as  rays  ot  starlight  tair ; 
Likt  starlight,  too,  they  twinkled  where 
Bestnders  hereabout  were  borne, 
From  May-time  until  Christmas  morn  ; 
A  stately  shape,  a  racer  gay, 
To  mount,  to  start,  and  win  the  day. 

I  saw  it  upon  nearer  view, 

A  horse,  and  yet  a  carriage,  too  I 

With  foot-hold  motions  light  and  free, 

And  steps  to  aid  agility. 

Accounts  are  had  —  in  which  we  meet 

Fleet  records,  promises  as  fleet; 

A  creature  not  too  bright  to  scoot 

For  human  nature's  daily  foot; 

For  transient  trips,  or  ample  miles, 

Onward  Rotator  tears,  and  smiles. 

And  now  I  feel  with  hand  serene 
The  very  pulse  of  the  machine  ;* 
A  being,  breathing  though  no  breath, 
A  traveller  e'en  for  life  and  death, 

•  William's  own  hue,  of  duoious  fitness  till  now. 


IN  THE  RUNNING' EM  CO:S  SALESROOM.        85 

With  rider  firm,  of  temperate  will, 

Of  balance,  eyesight,  strength,  and  skill ; 

A  perfect  carriage,  nobly  planned 

To  run  with  comfort,  at  command ; 

And  yet  a  courser  still  and  bright, 

Of  forty  pounds  of  pure  delight. 


IN   THE   RUNNING'EM   CO.'S   SALESROOM. 

BY   TWO    RYDAL   BARDS. 

"  TAX  not  the  rotal  Gait  with  vain  expense, 

With  ill-matched  wheels  the  Artisan  who  planned 

(At  first  contriving  for  a  jaunty  band 

Of  tight-breeched  Britons  only)  these  immense, 

And  little,  whirls  of  still  circumference ! 

Give  all  thou  canst,  my  best  expect  no  lower, 

The  price  is  regulated  less  or  more." 

So  spake  who  sold  for  merely  dollars  and  cents 

These  lofty  spinners,  that  launching  seat  aloof, 

Self-poised  to  shoot  over  the  hills  and  dells 

Where  light  and  shade  refresh,  where  Rustic  dwells. 

Fingering  and  pondering  them  as  both  would  fly, 

Our  thoughts  flew  with  a  fleetness  giving  proof 

That  we  were  born  for  high  legerity. 


86  1IYGEIAS   WHEEL. 

HYGEIA'S   WHEEL. 

Lux  ecce  snrgit  fcrrca. 

SWIFT  heralds  bright 
With  feet  of  might 

Upon  bicycles  stand, 
Sent  to  proclaim 
In  John's  high  name 

Glad  ridings  to  the  land. 
Long  miles  they  rove, 
They  walk  above, 

And  "  Come  up  hither  !  "  cry, 
"  The  soles  that  climb 
Wheel's  height  sublime 

Catch  Health  upon  the  fly." 

The  little  child, 
Who  brightly  smiled 

When  red  three-wheeler  bore, 
Will  leave  that  kind,— 
His  growing  mind 

Rides  upon  something  more. 
With  accents  sweet 
His  lips  repeat 


HYGEIA'S   WHEEL.  87 

The  chorus  of  the  high  : 

"True  soles  that  be 

From  walk  made  free 
Catch  Health  upon  the  fly." 

Joy  crowns  our  powers 

Some  summer  hours, 
And  spring  and  autumn  days ; 

'Mid  winter  snows 

We  in  repose 
Sing  thoughts  of  roily  pace. 

Thus  pales  or  burns 

Wheel's  star  by  turns, 
As  rolling  seasons  fly ; 

Both  Winter's  blight 

And  Summer's  light 
See  bloom  upon  the  Bi. 

From  health  amiss 

To  height  of  this 
When  willing  mortals  strive, 

Wheel  is  their  gain, 

And  pace  amain 
Shall  keep  their  blood  alive. 


88  A    MERRY  CAR. 

But  higher  still, 
O'er  trouble's  hill, 

Their  force  shall  onward  hie  ; 
Till  souls  shall  save 
Beyond  the  grave 

Their  Health  above  the  sky. 


A   MERRY   CAR. 

BY   SMITH    ET   AL. 

BICYCLE,  't  is  of  thee, 
Fleet  car  of  levity, 

Of  thee  I  sing : 
Wheel  I  and  brothers  ride, 
And  on  the  still  rim's  pride, 
Up  every  high  hill-side 

Drive  the  great  ring. 

Two-wheeler  —  or  if  three, 
Car  of  hilarity, 

The  same  I  love ; 


A    MERRY  CAR.  89 

I  hate  the  rocky  ills 
That  give  me  ugly  spills, 
Yet  my  heart  rather  thrills  — 
See  as  above. 

Make  carols  on  the  breeze, 
And  wring  from  all  the  P's 

Fleet  wheeldom's  song : 
Let  walking  ones  awake, 
Let  older  gents  partake, 
And,  ready  on  the  brake, 

Fly  down  along ! 

Our  Bisakel,  to  thee, 
Angel  of  wheelery, 

To  thee  we  sing  : 
Long  make  our  band  be  bright 
With  wheeldom's  roily  light ; 
Propel  us  by  thy  might, 

Great  pedal  king. 


90  ELDERS,   COME   UP. 

ELDERS,   COME   UP. 
j.  D.  +  D. 

CREEP  ye  no  more,  grave  walkers, 
Why  need  you  move  so  slow  ? 

Look  now,  the  young  wheel-stalkers  - 
And  have  n't  they  got  the  go  ! 

But  though  sons  easily  rise, 
Father  still  keeping 
Sidewalks  hies  creeping, 

Dully,  yet  dully  hies 

Creeping. 

Wheel  is  a  care-beguiling, 
A  ride  that  years  befits  ; 

Doth  not  the  son  go  smiling 
When  fair  on  saddle  he  sits  ? 

Ride  you  then,  ride  and  rise, 
Doubt  not  in  feeling 
While  he  flies  wheeling, 

Softly,  now  softly  flies 

Wheeling. 


WINTRY  MUSINGS.  91 

TO    MIDDEL   ACER,    ESQ. 
j.  D.  +  D. 

LEAST  of  a  bird,  sublimely  when  you  might 
Fly  long  and  steep,  to  fail  before  the  height ! 
What  if  your  dull  forefathers  did  not  fly, 
Could  you  not  let  a  bad  example  die? 
Wheelmen  are  risen  into  an  airier  way; 
Your  age  does  better  to  ride  fast  and  gay. 
Good  sense,  then,  in  your  worship  would  appear, 
Now  to  begin,  and  so  go  through  the  year. 


WINTRY   MUSINGS. 

Habitus  BicycUcus. 

WHEN  breezes  are  soft,  and  roads  are  hard, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

Thou  to  my  trying  dost  give  reward, 
And  wheel  is  my  wheel  for  any  meet. 


92  WINTRY  MUSINGS. 

For  the  drinking  and  cat  of  the  day, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

Oft  am  I  bothered  and  scarce  can  pay, 
But  wheel  is  my  wheel  for  other  meet. 

When  I,  lone  bachelor  once,  did  sigh, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

Thou  didst  me  pity,  and  drew  me  nigh 
To  wheel  as  my  wheel  for  partner  meet. 

When  I,  since  married  for  my  sins,  did  cry, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

Again  didst  pity,  and  made  me  fly ! 

And  wheel  is  my  wheel  for  true  helpmeet. 

'T  is  winter  time  now,  the  year  is  young, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

My  ridings  fail  me,  but  may  be  sung, 
For  wheel  is  my  wheel  for  singing  meet. 

White  as  the  snow  is  thy  nickeled  skin, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

Though  I  can't  drive  it  thro'  thick  and  thin, 
The  wheel  is  my  wheel  for  surface  meet. 


ADAPTED   ODE.  93 

My  face  paleth,  my  tread  is  low, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

I  merely  sing  you,  but  travel  slow 

Till  wheel  is  my  wheel  for  early  meet. 


ADAPTED   ODE. 
THE   TRYING   'CYCLER   TO   HIS   WHEEL. 

ROTAL  bird  of  travelling  fame, 
Let  me  quit  this  sort  of  game  : 
Climbing,  toppling,  faltering,  vying, 
Oh  the  strain,  the  hopes  of  trying ! 
Peace,  fond  motor,  cease  the  strife, 
And  start  me  languid  into  life. 

Hark !  they  whistle  ;  'cyclers  say, 
Brother,  spin  it  right  away. — 
This  is  what  abducts  me  quite ! 
Steels  my  sinews,  rears  my  height, 
Downs  my  troubles,  stirs  my  pride ; 
High-metalled  steed,  is  this  your  ride? 


94  "  MY  LOVE,"  A  SPOOPSY  POI-M. 

The  town  recedes  —  it  disnpjH  .us  ! 
Fields  open  on  my  eyes,  my  cars 
With  sounds  viatic  ring. 
On  end,  with  wings,  I  dance,  I  fly  1 
O  horse,  where  is  thy  quick  go-by  ? 
Of  chafe  where  is  the  sting? 


"MY   LOVE,"  A  SPOOPSY   POEM. 

BY   PROF.    HIGHWELL. 

NOT  as  some  other  wheelers  are 
Is  she  that  to  my  sole  is  dear ; 
Her  glorious  fabric  came  from  far, 
Beneath  the  silver  morning  star, 
To  get  her  art  in  over  here. 

Great  felloes  hath  she  of  her  own, 

Which  lesser  wheels  may  never  know ; 

John  giveth  them  to  her  alone, 

And  fleet  they  are  as  any  one 

Direction  winds  may  choose  to  blow. 


A    HEADER.  95 

But  of  herself  she  standeth  not, 
Though  many  can  not  half  so  fair ; 

That  simplest  duty  is  forgot,  — 

Yet  hath  she  no  dim  rusty  spot 
That  doth  not  in  her  nickel  share. 

She  hath  no  scorn  of  common  folks, 
And  though  she  is  of  other  birth, 
Roundly  her  axle  twirls,  and  spokes, 
And  patiently  she  bears  the  jokes, 
And  rides  the  Yankee  paths  of  earth. 

Blessing  she  is  ;  John  made  her  so, 

And  deeds  of  daily  wheeliness 
Roll  from  her  noiseless  as  the  snow,  — 
Nor  will  she  ever  chance  to  know 

That  I  'm  a  jackass,  more  or  less. 


A    HEADER. 

GOING  leg  after  leg, 

(As  the  dog  went  to  Dover) 
When  he  came  to  a  stone, 

Down  he  went  over. 


96  "GONDOLA"  MADE  BICYCLE. 

ROTA   FELIX. 

BEAUMOUNT  &   FLEETCHER. 

COME,  Wheel,  and  with  thy  fleet  reprieving, 

Rock  me  in  delight  awhile ; 

Let  some  pleasing  roads  beguile 

My  reflections,  so  from  thence 

They  may  take  an  influence 
All  my  sours  of  care  relieving. 

Though  but  a  skeleton  a-gliding, 
Life  it  brings  for  man  or  boy ! 
Walkers  suffer  long  annoy, 
111  content  with  any  thought 
In  their  laggard  fancy  wrought : 

Be  mine  the  joys  that  come  of  riding ! 


"GONDOLA"    MADE   BICYCLE. 

BY   LORD   BOYRUN. 

DIDST  ever  see  a  Bicycle  ?     For  fear 

You  have  not,  I  '11  describe  it  you  exactly : 

T  is  an  uncovered  car  that's  common  here, 

Steered  at  the  front,  built  lightly  but  compactly, 


RHYMES  OF  THE  ROAD.  97 

Rode  by  one  rider,  not  called  bicyclier ; 

They  glide  along  the  highway  looking  crackly, 
Just  as  a  witch  clapt  on  a  broom  can  go  it, 
While  some  can't  make  out  how  it  is  they  do  it. 

And  up  and  down  the  avenues  they  go, 
And  over  the  macadam  shoot  along, 

By  day  and  night,  all  paces,  swift  or  slow, 
And  round  the  suburbs  here,  an  able  throng ; 

They  ply  no  whip  nor  spur  —  and  know  no  whoa, 
As  not  to  them  do  woful  things  belong, 

For  all  times  they  maintain  a  deal  of  fun, 

Like  wedding  coaches  when  the  mischief 's  done. 


RHYMES   OF   THE   ROAD. 

BY   LORD   BOYRUN. 
I. 

HORSES  we  hire  no  further ;  and  the  rays 
Of  bright  wheels  make  sufficient  holidays  : 
Eloping  past  the  green  fields,  trees  and  flowers, 
We,  shining  like  the  crawling  brook,  go  by. 


98  RHYMES  OF   Till-:  ROAD. 

Clear  as  its  current  ride  the  glowing  hours 
\Yith  a  calm  vi-or,  \\liirh,  tho'  to  the  eye 
Idlesse  it  seem,  hath  its  own  industry. 
If  from  the  billowy  we  learn  to  dive, 
T  is  bicycle  should  teach  us  how  to  fly ; 
It  bears  no  flutterers,  company  can  give 
No  fellow  aid  —  alone,  man  with  his  wheel  must  strive. 

II. 

WHEEL  of  the  many-twinkling  spokes !  whose  charms 
Are  all  extended  up  from  legs  to  arms ; 
Bicycle!  though  too  long  boneshaker  made  — 
Reproachful  term,  bestowed  but  to  upbraid  — 
Now  Phoenix  and  a  volant  miracle, 
Flashing  to  view,  immense  but  movable  ; 
Henceforth  in  all  the  steel  of  brightness  shine, 
The  least  a  vaster  than  in  'Sixty-nine. 
Far  be  from  thee  and  thine  the  name  of  rude ; 
Though  yet  triumphant,  be  our  ways  subdued. 
Our  legs  most  move  to  conquer  as  they  fly, 
If  wheels  and  hopes  are  reasonably  high. 


THOSE  roaming  wheels,  which  swift  as  the  gazelle 

So  brightly  bold  go  beautifully  by, 

Win  as  they  wander,  dazzle  where  they  dwell. 


TO   ABEL   ELDER.  99 

SONNETS 
BY   WHEELIAM  SHAKESPOKE. 


TO   ABEL   ELDER. 

Insistere  rolls. 

I.  (7) 

WHEN  from  the  orient  graceful  Carrier  light 
Sported  his  well-turned  limbs,  each  under  eye 
Made  image  of  the  new-appearing  sight, 
Serving  with  gaze  his  saddled  ministry. 
An  thou  hadst  climbed  the  steep-up  Bicycle, 
Resuming  strong  youth  in  thy  middle  age, 
Yet-middling  looks  to  his  were  semblable, 
Amending  on  his  steely  pilgrimage  ; 
But  when  of  highmost  wheel,  with  wary  care 
Like  feeble  age,  thou  reelest  from  the  ray, 
Thine  eyes,  'fore  Gad,  man  !  now  perverted  are 
From  his  high  act  to  seek  the  nether  way : 
So,  thou  thyself  low-going  in  thy  noon, 
Look  for  no  rise,  unless  thou  get  thee  one. 


ICO  THE  REASONS   WHY. 

II.  (.6) 

THEN  wherefore  do  not  you  an  airy  way 
Make  speed  to  shun  this  stealthy  tiger,  Time, 
And  *  forty-pound  '  yourself  against  decay  ? 
Which  means  light  one  of  fifty  inch  to  climb ! 
Now  stand  you  on  the  top  of  happy  cranks, 
And  many  centric  sinews  stiffly  set, 
A  stable  horse,  would  bear  your  lively  shanks, 
Much  better  than  the  panting  counterfeit. 
So  should  the  hues  of  life  that  lift  repair ; 
While  toilet's  pencil,  or  my  truthful  pen, 
Neither  in  phys'nomy  nor  tract  of  hair, 
Can  draw  you  like  yourself  made  young  again : 
To  ride  away  yourself  keeps  yourself  still, 
And  you  most  live,  drawn  by  your  own  fleet  skill. 


THE   REASONS   WHY. 

Alto  ex  Bicycli  vertice. 

I.  (76) 

WHY  is  my  verse  so  fertile  of  new  ride, 
So  full  of  levitation  and  quick  range  ? 


THE  REASONS   WHY.  ioi 

And  all  the  time  why  do  I  prance  astride 

Of  goodliest  authors  and  make  compounds  strange  ? 

Why  write  I  still  of  one  (over  the  same), 

And  laud  invention  in  a  noted  steed, 

With  very  words  in  almost  every  name, 

Showing  their  worth  where  higher  to  proceed  ? 

Know  ye,  big  bards,  I  love  to  link  with  you, — 

One  great,  one  small  wheel,  on  the  road  have  led  ; 

So  all  my  zest  is  spinning  old  song  new, 

Speeding  again  what  is  already  sped. 

Just  like  the  riding  rod  I  daily  hold, 

So  is  my  pen  con-trolling  what  is  trolled. 

II.  (59) 

SAY  there  be  nothing  new,  but  all  which  is 
Was  old  before,  should  be  their  brains  reviled 
Who,  laboring  with  invention,  bore  in  this 
The  second  burden  of  a  buried  child  ? 
O  that  could  record  with  a  rearward  look 
Of  many  hundred  circuits  of  the  sun 
Show  the  like  image  in  some  antique  book, 
Or  prediluvian  print  in  fossil  done ! 
That  I  might  see  what  in  that  world  made  way 
For  the  combined  meteors  of  this  frame  j 


102  TO  BIS  A  K  EL. 

What  they  ascended,  if  slow  or  faster  thrv, 
Or  wheely  revolution  be  the  same : 
Thru  might  I  claim  from  wits  of  every  time 
The  self-same  right  to  reconstructed  rhyme. 


TO   BISAKEL. 

Cantilcnam  eandem  canens. 

I.  (73) 

OFTEN  have  I  invoked  thee  for  my  muse, 

And  found  a  rare  persistence  in  the  verse, 

Where  every  salient  pen  serveth  my  use, 

And  under  thee  our  poesy  disperse. 

Thy  rays  that  warmed  the  dumb  on  high  to  sing, 

And  heavy  ambulance  aloft  .to  fly, 

Have  added  wires  to  the  poets'  string, 

And  given  grace  to  dual  wheelery. 

Thou  art  the  guide  of  that  which  I  compile, 

Fair-spoken  wheels  and  words  belong  to  thee  ; 

Of  others'  works'thou  dost  amend  the  style, 

Their  arts  with  thy  fleet  races  racy  be : 

'Tis  thou  art  all  my  art,  and  dost  advance 

To  vie  with  William  my  full  countenance. 


TO  BISAKEL.  103 

II-  (38) 

How  can  my  mind  want  matter  to  invent, 
While  there  are  books,  and  thou  pour'st  into  verse 
Thine  own  fleet  betterment,  too  highly  bent 
For  every  vulgar  paper  to  rehearse  ?  * 
Then  give  thyself  no  care  —  if  aught  I  see 
Worthy  bestowal,  and  to  gain  thy  right, 
Am  not  so  dumb  I  cannot  sing  of  thee, 
Who  hast  thyself  given  us  invention  light ; 
Thou,  the  tenth  Muse,  in  these  times  more  in  worth 
Than  those  old  nine  which  my  bards  invocate. 
And  he  still  harping  on,  let  him  set  forth 
Their  subject  numbers  to  outlive  his  date. 
If  my  light-fingering  please  these  carious  days, 
The  stealth  be  mine,  but  thine  the  wealth  and  praise. 


SHAKESPOKE'S    EPIGRAM. 

YOUNG  friend,  for  cyclus'  sake  forbear 
To  bite  the  dust  that 's  ever  near. 
Blest  is  the  man  avoids  the  stones, 
And  curst  is  he  that  breaks  his  bones. 

*  William's  own  line;  some  editors  afeard  ! 


104  MS  MODERN  HORSE. 


HIS   MODERN    HORSE. 

SEE  THE   "  VENUS   AND   ADONIS." 

I  II.KK  doth  the-artisan  surpass  the  life 

In  limbing  and  proportioning  a  steed 
For  art  with  former  horsemanship  at  strife 

Wherein  the  breed  of  metal  can  exceed ; 
Making  his  horse  excel  the  common  one 
In  shape,  endurance,  temper,  pace  and  bone. 

Round-tired,  short-headed,  handles  low  and  long, 
Ball  bearings  all,  and  treading  nothing  wide, 

Small  weight,  short  cranks,  stiff  hollow  fork  and  strong, 
With  shining  nickel  or  enamel  hide ; 

All  that  a  horse  should  be  he  doth  not  lack,  — 

Nor  the  great  riders  for  so  small  a  back  : 

Ofttimes  they  range  far  off  from  work  and  cares ; 

Anon  they  start  at  racing,  all  together, 
To  set  the  wind  a  pace  that  now  compares, 

So  fast  they  run  or  fly,  with  tempest  weather  ! 
For  'mid  the  rushing  wires  the  torn  wind  sin'gs, 
And  urging  treadles  dash  like  frighted  wings. 


7 HE  BICYCLER;   A    VAGARY.  105 

THE   BICYCLER;   A   VAGARY. 

(Writer  been  taking  something.) 

HEARTI-  and  hardiness  unite 

To  give  Bicycler's  name  a  raise ; 

Most  fairly  seen  in  the  clear  light 
That  fills  '  excursions  of  two  days.' 

A  knightly  character  he  bears  — 
Not  that  his  business  office  knows ; 

Unfading  is  the  coat  he  wears, 

If  first-class  tailor  makes  his  clothes. 

Cock  of  the  walk  for  treading  high, 

Elation  shines  upon  his  face  — 
His  coat,  I  say,  is  the  real  dye  — 

His  steps  are  levity  and  grace. 

Inferior  horses  he  disdains, 

Nor  stoops  to  lower  walks  on  earth  ; 
John  Taurus'  goodly  work  maintains 

The  expanses  of  his  airy  mirth. 


106  CAMPBELL,   UNDONE  AND   OUTDONE. 

Tin-  stoutest  <;t'nt  who  struts  below, 
When  trained  to  fill  a  seat  above, 

John  gives  him  all  he  can  bestow, 
His  wheeldom  of  diurnal  move. 

Beer  shall  be  lavished  at  the  halt  — 
Methinks  from  earth  I  see  him  rise ! 

Clubbers  convulse  to  see  him  vault, 
And  shout  him  welcome  to  the  wise ! 


CAMPBELL,  UNDONE  AND  OUTDONE. 

WHEN  oftentimes  the  young  aerial  beau 
Spans  on  bright  arch  the  glittering  wheels  below, 
Why  to  yon  upland  turns  the  'cycling  eye, 
Whose  misty  outline  mingles  with  the  sky? 
Why  do  those  tracts  of  soberer  tint  appear 
More  meet  than  all  the  landscape  shining  near  ? 
T  is  distance  sends  enchantment  to  his  view, 
And  lures  the  mounted  with  its  azure  hue. 


ALTA    CANENS.  IO/ 

ALTA   CANENS. 

TO   THE   SURVIVORS   OF   THE   SIXTY. 
BY   T.   W.    O. 

SWEET  poets  of  this  move  ! 

Who  sing,  without  design, 
The  song  of  artful  love, 

In  unison  with  mine ; 
These  echoing  lays  contain 

Full  many  notes  of  ours 
Which  you  ones  cannot  gain 

With  less  than  boosted  powers. 

The  wheel  of  nickeled  charms 

Such  hearts  too  seldom  love, 
Although  the  treadle  warms 

And  lightens  all  above. 
How  slow  their  classic  things 

To  this  our  modern  lot, 
High-layrious  Mount  with  springs,  — 

And  yet  they  seek  them  not ! 


108  APOLOGY. 


cannot  rest 

Till  rhymsters  so  improve, 
That,  reading  and  distrust, 

Yc  hards  will  join  the  move: 
'T  is  happy,  with  its  brakes 

Beneath  the  chastening  hand  ; 
But,  doubtless,  no  great  shakes 

If  you  can't  understand. 


APOLOGY. 

Qui  facit  per  allum  fcuit  per  se. 

THAT  which  I  sing  is  partly  mine, 
Dear  son  of  Song,  remade  of  thine ; 
When  thou  hast  learned  to  ride,  shalt  see 
The  perfect  meaning  found  by  me. 

That  song  I  made,  it  was  not  mine 
When  fraught  with  incense  superfine, 
Till,  when  thou  sang'st  it  sweetly  through, 
I  with  my  voice  sang  — making  two. 


ROTALIS   EQUITATIS.  IOQ 

All  which  I  am,  it  is  not  mine  : 
The  moon  unto  the  earth  doth  shine  — 
Not  of  herself,  but  every  ray 
Quotes  from  a  bright  One  far  away. 


NON   ASSUMPSIT. 

YOUNG  Rollo  sat  riding  a  wheel  with  his  foot, 

And  he  sang,  "  Will  you  come  on  the  Flyer?  " 
Tall  middle-aged  man  had  stood  hitherto  mute, 
And  now  turned  away,  like  an  indolent  brute, 
And  he  said,  "  I'll  not  go  any  higher." 


ROTALIS    EOUITATUS. 

OH  who  can  forget  the  first  rides,  after  learning, 
When  wheeling  gave  life  a  new  edge  with  its  steel ; 

And  the    soul,  like    those   cakes   made   delicious   by 

turning, 
Gave  out  all  its  sweets  up  atop  of  the  wheel ! 

Forth  going  in  beauty  from  nation  to  nation, 
Most  lively  and  fleet  its  dominion  shall  be ; 

Big  poets  proclaim  it  the  best  equitation, 

And  to  roll  ever  on  like  the  waves  of  the  sea. 


I  10  LIFE   ON  THE  PALE  BICYCLE. 

LIFE   ON   THE   PALE   BICYCLE. 

BOSTON,  MAY  30,  1881. 

WALKERS  attend,  where  wheelmen  join 
Their  annual  meet  today ; 

Your  needs  and  aptitude  combine 
To  hail  the  vivacious  way. 

In  heaven  the  virtuous  ride  began, 
When  white  bicyclic  wire 

Among  the  feather- flappers  ran, 
And  strung  a  bolder  lyre ; 

And  struck  the  winged  with  amaze 

To  see  new  double  suns 
Around  the  stellar  orbits  race 

And  pass  the  common  ones. 

It  filled  the  island  kingdom  too, 
When  down  to  earth  it  rolled ; 

The  size,  the  hue,  and  shape  were  new, 
And  more  than  Britain  could  hold. 


REJUVENA  TED.  1 1  I 

From  o'er  the  sea,  with  cry  "  Ahoy  !  " 

An  impetuous  comer  ran, 
An  angel  one,  with  eager  joy, 

To  tell  the  Yankee  man. 

A  legion  now  obey  the  call 

Where  bards  supply  the  song ; 
"  Good  wheel  and  pace  "  is  heard  through  all 

The  League  A.  W.  throng. 

To  see  life  on  the  narrow  trail, 

The  walkers  will  ascend  ! 
Though  steam  and  horse  and  boots  should  fail, 

Its  race  shall  never  end. 


REJUVENATED. 

Bur  merely  to  measure 

The  road  with  a  soundless 
Quick  whirl  is  a  pleasure 

Ranging  antic  and  boundless  : 
My  courting  days  o'er, 

And  my  married  gone  after, 
The  Wheel  doth  restore 

Me  my  youth  and  my  laughter. 


I  i  2  MY  CHOICE. 

CHOICE. 
(OLDEN  STYLE.) 

THE  coach  or  cart  to  ride  I'm  loath, 
Extremes  are  suited  not  for  all ; 

On  steely  car,  unlike  them  both, 
I  surest  sit,  and  fear  no  fall. 

This  is  my  choice,  for  me  I  feel 

No  ride  is  like  the  quiet  wheel. 

I  grind  no  scissors,  turn  no  mill, 
I  bear  no  goods  of  any  trade ; 

I  skim  the  plain,  I  climb  the  hill, 
But  greatest  cities  I  evade, 

And  laugh  at  them  in  care  and  pain 

Who  render  health  for  golden  gain. 

Come  up  betimes,  thou  heavy  wight 
That  keep'st  the  lower  ways  of  brick  ! 

Rise  now  and  walk  the  wires  light 
While  not  too  old  to  travel  quick, 
ke  to  the  saddle  ere  too  late, 

True  life  goes  with  the  rapid  gait. 


f(TJ 
\& 

SONNETS,   AFTER  E.   B.   B.  113 

^fez- 

SONNETS,    AFTER   E.    B.    B. 

I. 

THE  aspect  of  all  things  is  changed,  I  think, 
Since  first  I  set  my  footsteps  where  the  wheel 
Moves  still  and  firm  beneath  me  as  I  steal 
Between  the  travel  and  the  outer  brink 
Of  obvious  headers.     Now  I,  once  near  to  sink, 
Am  caught  up  into  health,  and  learn  the  role 
Of  life  in  new  scenes,  that  the  draught  of  dole 
Me  given  in  wedlock  I  no  longer  drink. 
Praising  the  engine  that  I  drive  and  steer, 
The  names  of  coach  and  horse  are  flung  away 
For  our  high  art  that  shall  be  ever  here ; 
And  this,  this  dual  song  —  of  yesterday  — 
The  ardent  poets  join,  and  make  appear 
Bicycle's  name  set  bright  in  all  we  say. 

ii. 

My  good  bicycle  !  that  hast  floated  me 
From  the  scant  walk  of  earth  that  I  had  known, 
And  into  many  languid  hours  blown 
Breath  vital,  till  my  visage  joyfully 
Beams  out  again,  as  any  one  can  see, 
Above  the  pave  or  road ;  my  f- risky  own, 
That  earnest  to  one  withering  and  lone, 


114  THE    WHEEL'S  EXPRESSION. 

And  rather  booked  for  hearse  than  mounting  thee  ! 

Having  not  made  me  quite  a  blooming  lad, 

Careful  I  ride  the  Safety  bicycle, 

Look  back  upon  the  trepid  time  I  had 

On  the  simple  wheel,  and  now,  with  diction  "  swell," 

Bear  witness  here,  —  over  roads  good  and  bad 

That  levers  and  great  rake  go  mighty  well. 


THE   WHEEL'S    EXPRESSION. 

WITH  hammering  touch  and  not  deficient  sound 
I  strive  intently  to  play  up  aright 
What  music  of  our  wheeling  day  and  night 
On  keys  of  thought  and  feeling  I  can  pound, 
Artfully  rendering  all  that  rotal  round 
With  octaves  of  metallic  ring  and  height 
Which  answer  quaintly  to  our  ringed  flight 
From  the  red  sidewalks  of  the  city  ground. 
In  song  my  soul  dilateth  to  declare 
To  plodders  the  true  onwardness  I  feel 
When  riding  by  myself  up  in  the  air ; 
And  while  I  go  it,  —  as  the  thunder  peal 
Breaks  up  its  cloud,  all  troubles  vanish  there 
Before  my  loud  apostrophe  to  wheel. 


ROUNDELS,   AFTER  SWINBURNE.         1 15 
ROUNDELS,   AFTER  SWINBURNE. 


I.     VOICE   OF   WHEEL. 

BICYCLE  is  wrought  as  a  ring  of  the  starry  sphere, 
With   craft   of  the    light,  but  the  winning  of  sound 

unsought,  — 

For  the  art  of  the  ride  I  should  smile  were't  to  pleas- 
ure the  ear 

Bicycle  is  wrought. 

Its  music  is  LYRA,  rewritten  of  all  or  of  aught  — 
Love,  worship,  or  woe  —  in  resemblance  of  rapture, 

that  clear 
Fun- fancy  can  fashion  to  dwell  in  the  ear  of  thought. 

A  mocking-bard's  voice  the  sound,  and  ye  hearken  to 

hear 

Note  answer  to  note,  and  many  a  high  strain  caught 
Which  mount  my  design  where  song  as  a  psalm  for 

mere 

Bicycle  is  wrought ! 

II.     IN   PARLOR. 

Outside  of  the  glaze  ye  are  shut  in,  lying 
Close  from  the  air,  and  to  ease  or  ails  tied, 


Il6        ROUNDELS,   AFTER  SWINBURXE. 

What  troop  come  swelling,  the  fine  wheels  plying, 

Outside? 

They  will  not  cease,  they  come  to  abide : 
Halest  of  this  age  in  brightness  hieing 
Pass  and  return  on  silence  astride. 

Ye  hear  not,  but  see  ye  not  men  as  flying 
In  the  present  that  makes  from  the  past  that  ride? 
Will  you  stay  peeping,  the  joy  not  trying 
Outside  ? 

III.     SECURITY. 

Wheel,  as  thou  wilt,  fain  would  I  ride  with  thee, 
Now  thou  canst  show,  of  all  that  men  have  built, 
Some  roadster  where  our  souls  serene  can  be  — 

Wheel,  as  thou  wilt. 
Not  such  as  go  in  racing  rush  and  tilt 
Impetuous,  but  meek  seat  on  mild  wheels  three, 
Too  low  for  poets'  hope  to  have  me  killt ; 

Or  Safety  two,  where  I  may  drive  set  free 
From  check  and  strain  and  dread  of  getting  spilt : 
So  shalt  thou  give  life  often  much  to  me, 
Wheel,  as  thou  wilt ! 


A    QUESTION  ANSWERED.  1 1 

A   QUESTION    ANSWERED. 
(SWINBURNING   STYLE.) 

"  OF  fear  and  of  fate  are  bicycles  fashioned, 

That  the  heads  above  them  are  dire  and  glum?  " 

Nay,  the  faces  of  riders  remain  unashened, 
Chilled  not  with  sense  of  a  fall  to  come ; 

They  bear  the  heart  of  the  bold  not  craven, 
'Tis  peace  around  them  and  grief  is  far, 

They  hear  no  note  from  a  night-hued  raven 
Of  death  at  the  crossing  bar. 

Of  no  iron  of  doom  are  two-wheelers  shapen, 
That  sometime  a  rider  may  seem  accurst, 

But  the  gnawing  and  weakness  of  hunger  happen, 
And  the  throats  of  the  boys  are  adry  for  thirst. 

Their  seats  are  as  towers  from  the  cares  that  wither, 
And  seldom  is  any  struck  wan  by  fear. 

An  emulous  rage  for  race  sets  hither, 

And  the  mode  of  the  wise  is  clear. 

Scant  lives  of  many  wax  wide  with  the  might  of  it, 
Uprising  to  rank  with  the  hale  and  the  sound ; 


Il8  A    QUESTION  ANSWERED. 

Spirit  and  sense  go  elated  on  height  of  it, 
To  compass  unlimited  miles  with  it  round  ; 

The  sense  is  most  of  a  spurring  scout-run, 
The  spirit  is  much  like  a  joy  sublime, 

Of  wheel  to  match  and  of  speed  to  outrun 
The  speed  of  the  wheel  of  Time. 

And  forth  they  steer,  as  a  yachting  rover 
For  a  pleasure  raid  on  the  dancing  brine, 

And  highways  carry  their  high  horse  over 
To  the  meads  and  furrows  of  corn  and  kine  ; 

Where  the  long  line  halts  amid  gazing  greeters 
In  the  blithe  bright  streets  of  the  village  plan 

Perplexed  with  sense  of  the  strange  quietus 
And  height  of  machines  that  ran. 

The  whirl  is  left  of  the  town's  confusion, 
On  the  best  of  the  wheels  of  revolving  life 

Thro*  wind  and  sun  in  their  wide  elusion 

From  strife  more  rude  than  the  seasons'  strife. 

For  the  heart  within  them  of  late  was  busy 
To  loose  their  souls  as  a  sail  unfurled , 

They  must  needs  escape  for  a  while  that  dizzy 
Close  toil  of  the  weary  world. 


A   SONNET.  119 

Too  full,  they  say,  is  the  world  of  trouble, 
Too  tense  with  work  are  our  walks  on  earth, 

And  we  turn  for  the  gain  and  the  relish  of  double 
Delight  to  aspire  on  our  wings  of  mirth. 

And  life  grows  fervid  in  air  more  vital, 

Where  often  the  city's  brood  fain  would  flee, 

Where  fully  the  lifts  of  the  ride  are  requital 
For  falls  there  may  happen  to  be. 


A  SONNET. 

Summa  cum  laude. 

LIKE  to  the  leonine  sunflower  of  flowers 

With  yellow  pride  that  domineers  the  sight, 

Or  as  among  ships'  signal  lamps  by  night 

Their  good  revolving  planet  of  the  towers, 

O  Wheel,  thou  shinest  on  this  land  of  ours 

One  altogether  lively  and  upright ! 

A  feather-weight  so  fair,  such  onward  powers, 

(Why  bear  a  lantern,  in  thyself  so  light?) 

That  oft  enamored  men  of  sober  blood, 

Their  earthly  walk  too  tedious  to  abide, 

Transported  on  that  seat  above  the  mud 

Maintain  a  course  no  horseman  can  outride. 

Some  moan  their  loss  and  wish  they'd  had  the  grace, 

Not  knowing  gout,  to  know  this  pedal  pace. 


120     SONNETS,   AFTER  FOREIGN  SAMPLES. 
,  AFTER  FOREIGN  SAMPLES. 


I.     IN    A   RIDING    RINK. 

STAY  not,  with  lingering  foot,  O  learner, -here, 
Seek  the  expansion  of  the  country  ride ; 
Firm  be  thy  step,  thy  heart  will  banish  fear 
In  brighter  scenes  \h\sposty  path  denied, 
Far  from  the  shade  of  tall  and  brick  abodes, 
Where  stand  the  suburb  mansions  of  delight. 
Stay  not,  but  on  superior  turnpike  roads 
Find  the  best  basis  of  bicycling  height. 
And  there  to  cheer  thy  firstly  toilsome  way, 
See  many  a  coaster  glitter  down  the  hill ! 
Breezes  refreshing  softly  round  thee  play, 
Warm  sunshine  smiles  —  beware  of  headers  still. 
Once  skilful  there,  free  of  beginner's  strife, 
Health  is  a  certainty,  and  ride  is  life. 

II.     OF   SOME    ROADS. 
Selectmen  !  why,  where'er  our  rubbers  tread, 
Afflict  the  road  with  rocks  and  ruts  like  these? 
Ah,  you  —  for  we  have  reasonable  dread 
To  toil  and  pant  where  we  should  skim  with  ease  — 
Deserve  the  frown  severe,  the  language  rude, 
From  gentle  wheelmen  that  come  out  your  way  ! 


SONNETS,   AFTER  FOREIGN  SAMPLES.       121 

Our  semi- flyers  must  travel  unsubdued, 
Like  carrier-pigeons,  not  like  birds  of  prey. 
Are  we  to  contest  new,  in  toils  untried? 
No,  we  have  common  hinderance  defied, 
And  drawn  fresh  energy  from  every  flight ; 
But  the  rough  jolts  of  bumping  on  the  wheel  — 
With  such  incessant  shock  vibrating  steel 
Shaky  and  brittle  grows,  if  no  less  bright. 

III.     A   SENIOR'S    INTENT. 

Bicycle  ride  !  more  lively  than  serene, 

Whether  in  urban  streets  or  rural  ways, 

Where  health  led  me  with  so  mercurial  mien, 

Winging  my  feet  these  five  years'  fleeting  days ; 

I  must  forbear  your  heights,  and  though  my  heart 

Declines  the  chances  of  your  harms  before, 

'Tis  but  ambition  for  a  greater  part  — 

Still  strengthening  limbs  will  manage  one  wheel  moie  ! 

Let  Tricycle  through  many  a  future  day 

To  distant  towns  this  mortal  form  convey, 

Journeying  inland  or  skirting  ocean's  wave ; 

Yet  my  song  musical,  to  memory  true, 

On  thought's  light  pedals  oft  shall  fly  with  you, 

And  still,  Bicycle,  in  your  praises  rave. 


122  A   RONDEAU. 

A   RONDEAU. 

Mcns  v'rvida  in  cor  pore  sano. 

His  sportive  lyre  bicyclist  sought 
To  ease  his  heart  with  love  amort, 
But  drew  no  music  high  or  low 
Of  charm  to  heal  his  hurt  —  although 
He  took  more  red  wine  than  he  ought. 

Along  the  strings  his  ear  has  caught 
A  strain  by  wheely  angel  brought, 
And  sweeps  the  shallows  with  its  flow 
His  sportive  lyre  ! 

Life  thro'  the  ringing  wires  has  wrought, 
Life  in  our  puling  poets  naught, 

Who  welter  still  in  sap  and  woe ; 

While  warm  his  soul  and  body  glow 
To  strike  with  renovation  haught 
His  sportive  lyre. 


ILL  fares  the  man  to  bodily  ails  a  prey, 
Whose  gold  accumulates  and  joys  decay. 


URBS  BICYCLICA.  12$ 

IN    "TRINITY"   SQUARE,    1878. 

Sicut  nobis  sit  cyclus  omnibus. 

NOTABLE  days  in  Boston  were  "  of  old," 
When  wheel  on  wheel  of  novel  riding  rolled 
Before  her  moneyed  churches  and  around 
The  multitude,  whom  chariots  of  no  sound 
Charmed  to  a  hush  of  wonder,  and  the  rate 
And  poise  they  witnessed  in  bicycle's  gait. 
On  the  proud  towers  paused  angels,  seen  by  few, 
Some  earnest  genuflexions  glad  to  view, 
And  know  that  drivers  of  the  better  horse 
Were  all  upright  men  holding  by  the  cross. 


URBS   BICYCLICA. 
BOSTON,  Boston  ! 
What  art  thou  the  most  on? 
First  riders  and  a  host  on 
Two-wheelers  —  first  dealers, 
And  bards  that  make  loud  boast  on. 


WHILE  the  horse  agitations  depart, 
And  fair  ladies  in  confidence  roll, 

Bicycle  is  the  lord  of  the  art, 

And  Tricycle  right  queen,  on  the  whole. 


124  ROTA   MUSIS  AMIGA. 


ROTA   MUSIS   AMIGA. 

\\  m  \  I  rose  to  the  wheeling, 

My  heart  full  of  go, 
I  entreated  the  song-bards 

For  bicycles  to  blow. 
To  my  pleading  —  no  heeding, 

Their  silence  said  No ; 
That  was  no  kind  of  answer 

To  a  heart  full  of  go. 

In  a  wide  quest  of  song, 
On  the  heights  and  below, 

I  caught  me  their  brightest 
•  Metres,  music  and  glow ; 

And  healing  for  wheeling 
Their  sick  notes  of  woe, 

Assumed  the  full  cheek 
On  our  bugles  to  blow. 

The  round  years  have  rolled, 
Casting  some  of  them  low, 

And  again  there  is  pleading  — 
To  the  swift  from  the  slow : 


A    WORD.  12$ 

"Ah,  Dalty,  we're  faulty, 

But  how  could  you  do  so  ! 
We  must  mount  to  catch  up 

With  that  heart  full  of  go." 


A   MODEST   ASCRIPTION. 

IN   THE   GREEK   MANNER. 

WITH  his  sister  Muses, 
Uranian  and  Hygeian  Bisakel 
A  spinning  wreath  of  rose  and  laurel  gave 
To  be  my  chaplet :  they  had  blown  a  spirit 
Bicyclic  on  my  soul,  that  bade  me  set 
Wheels  swift  and  safety- wheels  to  comic  song ; 
Whereto  they  made  me  know  the  lofty  bards, 
Their  styles,  firstly  for  best,  ever  considering. 


A  WORD. 

BEAR  witness  these,  when  Time 
Shall  rate  my  book,  that  I 
Of  the  wheel  lover,  and  fleet  poesy, 
First  topped  them  past  my  prime, 
And  green  in  skill,  though  ripe,  on  both  did  fly 


126  SON  OF  IIYGEIA. 

SON   OF   HYGEIA. 

AFTER   THE    GREKK. 

v  of  Hygeia,  wheeled  Hisakel, 
Thou  of  the  potent  spell 
Whose  silent  magic  changeth  mortal  life  ! 
Thou  with  the  gentle  steel 
Dost  proudest  knights  make  feel 
How  poor  the  snort  and  champ  of  horsey  strife, 
And,  granting  automotive  ride  to  men, 
Inspire  tame  hearts,  and  old  turn  young  agen. 

Over  thy  wheels  is  a  sure  seat  for  all 
That  they  may  not  down  fall. 
In  our  full  sight  some  wizard  youth  rides  One 
Wheel,  and  no  other  hath 
Following  on  the  path  ! 
And  in  his  triumph  needs  no  vile  backbone  : 
To  all  thou  givest  as  their  needs  may  be, 
Forty  to  sixty-inch,  one,  two,  or  three. 


WITH    horse-car,  or  by  steam,  we    take   the  shortest 

route  ; 
The  way  bicycle  leads  is  a  gay  roundabout. 


A   LAMENTATION.  I2/ 

A   LAMENTATION. 

ALAS,  the  man  was  getting  old, 
Head  rather  gray,  and  heart  too  cold. 
Full  young  the  wheel  that  near  inclined  : 
Ah  !  this  to  me  by  fate  assigned  ? 

The  thing,  alas,  was  fair  in  form  — 
His  head  was  turned,  his  heart  too  warm ; 
He  wildly  roaming  went  to  ride, 
And,  trying  flying,  still  would  slide. 

When  heart  on  art  of  speed  is  bent, 
The  smart  of  haste  is  accident. 
Too  well  the  meaning  many  know 
Who  rashly  go,  alas  !  to  woe. 

The  end,  on  wheel  so  fleet  and  young, 
Needs  but  the  shortest  pen  or  tongue ; 
Down  hill,  heels  up,  he  fell  too  much, 
At  last,  alas,  he  used  a  crutch. 


SOMETIMES  even  riders  firstrate 
Are  projected  headlong  prostrate. 


128  "  X TRA ORDINAR  Y." 

"XTRAORDINARY." 

IV   GRADUS   AD   CCELUM. 

WHEN  in  a  state  of  trepidation 

We  grew  averse  to  the  rotal  ride, 
And  after  much  of  precipitation, 

More  liable  to  pitch  and  slide, 
That  was  the  time  for  our  appearing 

Upon  the  superior  Safety  one  ; 
And,  rake  enough  to  banish  fearing, 
We  mount  up  serenely, 

Mount  up  serenely  for  the  run. 

When  over  roads  of  a  rough  formation 

The  leading  riders  carefully  went, 
We  got  on  apace  to  a  situation 

Where  some  got  off  for  a  steep  ascent. 
That  was  the  time  for  our  appearing, 

To  show  them  more  advantage  still : 
With  links  and  levers  for  a  gearing, 
We  mount  up  serenely, 

Mount  up  serenely  any  hill. 

When  in  the  realm  of  imagination 
Are  seen  so  many  feeble  flights, 


A    SONG  LET.  1 29 

A  safety  method  of  elevation 

Is  just  the  scheme  to  scale  the  heights. 

That  is  the  time  for  our  appearing 
In  mutual  aid  with  bards  of  mark : 

With  them  the  lower  regions  clearing, 

We  mount  up  serenely, 
Mount  up  serenely  like  a  lark. 

When  in  a  state  of  incineration 

These  bones  are  powder  to  inurn, 
Soul  will  have  skipt  to  a  new  location, 

Whence  come  the  bright  ones  who  return. 
That  is  the  time  for  our  appearing 

In  Extra  shape  of  the  second  birth  ! 
With  facts  not  faith  to  banish  fearing, 
We  mount  up  serenely, 

Mount  up  serenely  from  the  earth. 


A    SONGLET. 

I  RODE  when  yesterday  was  bright : 
Today,  that  joy  to  be  untried, 
I  mourn  the  mud  and  cloudy  height, 
The  rotal  hope  although  in  sight 


130  "S/OXSE  SENSE." 

That  some  tomorrow  soon  I  ride  — 

Its  any  tails  I  must  abide. 

Or  for  tomorrow  or  today 

Is  wheel  a  grief  then  ?     No,  I  say ; 

Because  I  let  no  future  fright, 

And  have  the  wheelman's  sure  delight 

Of  still  recalling  yesterday, 

The  ride  unfailing  yesterday  ! 

JUVENIS. 

"HORSE    SENSE." 
(OF  SOME,  BOSTON  1883.) 

'Tis  the  notion  of  horse-trotting  pride,  — 
Each  is  welcome  to  what  we  enjoy, 

Whether  driving  his  own,  or  one  let ; 
But  the  rights  of  the  wheelmen's  ride 
We  will  run  down  and  smash  and  destroy 

If  on  Sunday  they  chance  to  be  met. 
For  the  Puritan  laws  still  control, 
And  the  horse  and  his  master  are  sole 
Lords  of  road  and  require  the  whole. 


WHII.K  babes,  men  good  or  bad  go  on  all-fours; 
But  afterward  divide  —  to  wheel,  to  horse. 


UNSATISFIED.  131 

UNSATISFIED. 

(OWING   TO    EMILY   P.) 

I  SPIN  all  day  from  dawn  till  dark 

Bestriding  a  phantom  pale, 
And  often  I  out-rise  the  lark, 

Out-speed  the  summer  gale  ; 
While  whether  I  halt  by  a  cooling  spring, 

Or  ride  with  a  burning  zest, 
A  face  that  I  know  is  following, 

A  voice  in  my  vague  unrest. 

She  haunts  the  sunshine  and  the  shade, 

The  plain,  the  hill,  the  stream, 
Till  I  doubt  if  she  be  an  earthly  maid, 

Or  only  a  young  man's  dream. 
Astray  if  rapt  with  the  phantoms  bright, 

My  life  may  be  truly  blest 
When  the  homeing  heart  of  the  wheeling  knight 

Shall  possess  and  be  possest. 

JUVENIS. 

O-o  are  rings  to  ride,  one  runs  ahead  for  mover, 
The  other  jumps  to  pitch  the  man  a  header  over. 


132  ARE    YOU  READY? 

ARE   YOU    READY? 
ARE  you  ready  for  the  meeting 

With  bicyclers  in  the  air? 
Longing  for  that  wheely  greeting 

With  the  handsome  many  there? 
If  not  ready,  if  not  steady, 

Oh,  for  that  great  way  prepare  ! 


POST    ROTAM   ARNICA. 

DRAWN   PARTLY    FROM    LIFE.* 

THERE  was  a  young  man  in  Philadelphia 
Who  thought  surely  he  would  be  healthier 

To  straddle  a  wheel 

And  ride  a  good  deal  — 
He  will  buy  him  a  horse  when  he's  well-thier. 

Such  another  young  man  lives  in  Boston, 
Who  was  so  exceedingly  tost  on 

And  off  of  his  bike, 

That  he  got  him  a  trike, 
Where  he  finds  no  erectitude  lost  on. 


Also:  — 

"  Dies  crit  praegelida 
Sinistra  quum  Bostonia." 


WHEEL   AND    THE    YEAR, 


WHEEL   AND   THE   YEAR. 

The  universe  is  God  rotating.  —  OKEN. 

SING  of  the  wheel,  for  it  is  fleet  and  comely, 

Whether  you  have  it  by  the  two,  or  three ; 
Cling  to  the  wheel  for  rides  abroad  or  homely,  — 

And  join  the  L.  A.  w.,  or  c.  T.  c. 
To  gaily  move  amid  the  scenes  of  nature, 

Its  joke  is  easy  and  its  burden  light ; 
It  lifts  you  fitly  to  a  godlike  stature, 

You  of  many  a  holy  patent-right. 

Sing  of  the  year  now  following  the  olden, 

Around  the  royal  sun  to  run  its  race  : 
Ring  of  the  wheels  that  lately  us  embolden 

Is  rapt  with  somewhat  of  ecliptic  pace. 
Shall  they  not  speak  of  One  who  rolleth  ever 

Upon  the  orbits  vast  that  night  reveals, 
Where  boundless  space  and  time  can  weary  never 

The  flight  of  Him  who  sits  above  his  wheels? 

Sing  of  the  wheel  as  minister  of  gladness 
Newly  to  many  in  the  coming  year ; 

Bring  to  the  wheel  the  phys'nomy  of  sadness, 
For  that  is  what  such  rides  rejoice  to  clear. 


134  IVUEELY  THOUGHTS,   ETC. 

Tell  gentle  souls  that  now  Tricycle  cometh, 
The  tamer  kind  that  will  not  scare  or  maim; 

While  Bicycle,  as  ever,  speeds  and  hummeth, 
And  hardy  bards  collaud  in  loud  acclaim. 

Pius  ROTATOR. 
1884. 

By  the  same  also  are  most  of  these :  — 

WHEELY  THOUGHTS  AND  EJACU- 
LATIONS. 


THE   FINAL   MEET. 

AFTER   HAFIZ. 

Win  N  the  last  solemn  day  of  judgment  shall  break, 
And  all  the  world's  collected  races  quake, 
On  a  sixtytwo-inch,  transplendent  with  zeal, 
Shall  be  seen  the  guardian  god  of  the  wheel  ! 
To  the  numberless  multitude  assembled  there 
This  is  the  mandate  that  he  will  declare  : 
Come,  all  ye  bicyclists,  be  blest  on  my  right ; 
Go,  you  faint  legg'd  ones,  and  sink  from  my  sight. 


WHILE  the  wheel  holds  out  to  turn, 
The  milest  walker  may  go  learn. 


WHEELY   THOUGHTS,   ETC.  135 

To  me  the  rolling  firmament  displays 
A  panorama  of  God's  cycling  ways. 


LIKE  treading  water  is  the  motion  of  his  limbs, 

Yet  swiftly  thro'  the  air  the  bold  two-wheelman  swims. 


WHEEL  is  a  roadster  of  so  flightful  mien, 
To  be  high  rated  needs  but  to  be  seen ; 
And  seeing  oft,  familiar  with  his  pace, 
We  wobble  first,  then  travel,  and  then  race. 


ONE  self-propelling  hour  whole  days  outshines 
Of  vapid  walkers,  or  of  horse-car  lines ; 
And  more  true  joy  bicycler  axled  feels 
Than  driver  with  a  trotter  to  his  wheels. 


HEREDITARY  horsemen  !  know  ye  not 

Who  would  be  free,  themselves  must  mount  the  wheel  ? 


LIKE  Moses  on  his  mount,  the  fine 
Bicyclist  cuts  a  wondrous  shine, 
Until  he  strikes  a  rock,  and  then 
They  are  quite  different  sort  of  men. 


136  WHEELY  THOUGHTS,   ETC. 

THE  spacious  wheel  which  here  thy  mortal  eye  doth 

see, 
Hath  larger  rolled  with  God  from  all  eternity. 


SOLES  that  are  truly  blest  know  much  of  wheeliness ; 
Left  treadle  doth  the  one,  and  right  the  other  bless. 
Soul  riseth  too  with  body  the  hours  you  ride  on  high, 
And  hour  by  hour  to  both  a  better  life  thereby. 


THE  silkworm  doth  turn  to  and  spin  till  it  can  fly. 
Turn  too,  O  man,  or  worm  be  stumpt  and  outdone 
by! 

DRIVE  out  upon  the  road,  there  like  a  star  to  be, 
And  wheel  in  orbit  wide  of  calm  celerity. 


ONE  smiling  at  the  wheels,  he  crieth  they  are  toys. 
Are  they  but  toys,  O  man,  which  change  our  griefs  to 

joys? 
Such   hasty  judgments,  from  the   slow,  are  strangely 

rife ; 
Shall  chick  unhatched  discourse  philosophy  of  life  ? 


WHEELY  THOUGHTS,   ETC.  137 

THE   UPWARD   GRAVITATION. 

Tis  better  far  than  all  the  elevation 
That  cometh  from  the  cup  of  inebriety 

To  get  high  on  the  wheel  of  equitation,  — 

And  there  we  have  the  best  of  much  called  piety. 


SMALL,    is   wheel's   Winter   range,   increasing  in    the 

Spring ; 
Summer  the   evening-runs,  Autumn   long   rides  doth 

bring. 

WHEEL  is  so  swift  a  thing  that  twinkling  it  can  fly 
Down  from  the  highest  hill-top  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye. 

LET  big  wheel  be  my  sun,  and  little  one  my  moon, 
Then  will  my  dullest  times  be  made  as  bright  as  noon. 


MY  first  and  second  are  much  alike,  except  in  size  ; 
My  whole  upon  the  road  was  once  a  great  surprise. 


138  WHEELY  THOUGHTS,  ETC. 

FMK  is  Aurora's  fare,  but  on  the  wheel  more  fair, 
When  with  arising  sun  man  riseth  there. 


O-o  is  the  bike  you  are  often  on  top,  or 

The  remark  you  will  make  after  coming  a  cropper. 

I  A  en  such  is  the  Xtra  or  Xspurt  to  straddle, 

You  but  add  a  small  thing  or  two,  chiefly  a  saddle. 


62-INCH  the  highest  is  —  rare  he  that  knows  it ; 
It  takes  the  lengthy  legs  to  perfectly  enclose  it. 


WHEELS,  in  fleetest  sort  to  bless  us, 
In  a  mobile  Twain  must  be  ; 

But  serenely  to  possess  us, 

They  must  form  a  precious  Three. 


THOUGH  wheel  affects  us  in  so  many  ways, 

It  hardly  reaches  to  our  soular  case  : 

Heaven  stoops,  hell- rises,  to  catch  the  soul  of  man, 

Who,  doing  both,  so  speeds  that  neither  can. 


IN  currente  rota  qui  sedet,  pervolat  terram. 


WHEEL  Y   THOUGHTS,   ETC.  139 

MOLLITER   AMBULANS. 

OUR  airy  feet  with  well  known  flight, 
Swift  on  the  twinklings  of  the  wire, 

Run  up  the  hills  that  heave  in  sight, 
And  leave  the  walking  world  to  tire. 

Cleave  to  the  earth,  ye  booted  ones, 

Contented  kick  your  native  dust ! 
While  old  bicyclists  and  their  sons 

Light-footed  tread  the  wheel  they  trust. 


'Tis  the  morning  of  life  gives  bicyclical  lore, 
And  coming  wheels  can  cast  their  riders  before 


HEALTH  and  joy  and  youth  returning, 
Here  have  fixed  their  leather  seat ; 

With  Bisakel  our  hearts  are  burning, 
He  is  with  us  when  we  meet. 


SIDEWALKER  crecpeth  to  and  fro, 
His  leg  is  weak,  his  foot  is  low ; 
He  hath  no  lyric  song, 
His  short  way  seemeth  long. 


140  WHEEL?  Til  ore  UTS,   . 

\  on  this  wheel  rome  all  who  can. 
And  leave-  behind  them  the  old  man. 


A  rvi'F.  in  nature  for  bicycling  souls, — 
Rivers  can  only  run,  great  Ocean  rolls  ! 


PENSIVE    IN   A   BONEYARD. 

PERHAPS  in  this  selected  spot  are  laid 
Some  legs  once  regnant  on  bicyclic  wire, 

Hands  that  the  rod  of  riding  may  have  swayed, 
And  waked  to  parody  the  rotal  lyre. 


EACH  on  his  narrow  seat  of  porcine  hide, 
The  gay  forefathers  of  the  future  ride. 


\\YST\VAKD  the  horse  Bicycle  takes  its  way; 

The  four- foot  one  already  passed, 
Now  swiftly  goes  the  charmer  with  the  day : 

John's  noblest  offspring  is  his  last. 


WHEELY  THOUGHTS,   ETC.  14! 

EQUITES    ROTARUM. 
THE  errant-knights  of  latter  song 

Are  ever  young  and  gay  ! 
They  pass  on  leather  heights  along, 

Companions  of  the  Day. 
There  all  their  thoughts  are  rosy  bright, 

And  all  their  motions  fleet, 
Their  pedal  ends  in  wingy  flight 

The  flitting  treadles  beat. 


TYRO'S    SOLILOQUY. 

—  WHENCE  this  pleasing  hope,  this  fond  desire, 
This  longing  after  rides  on  bicycles  ? 
And  whence  this  secret  dread  and  inward  horror 
Of  falling  in  the  mud?     Why  shrinks  the  soul 
Back  on  herself,  and  starts  at  nasty  croppers  ? 
T  is  the  Divinity  that  stirs  within  us, 
'T  is  Bisakel  himself  points  what  we  're  after, 
And  intimates  bicycling  unto  man,  — 
Bicycling,  that  so  pleasing,  dreadful  thought ! 


WHEN   thou   dost   cry  for  health,  the    fountain   here 

mayst  see  — 
Wheel,  so  thou  use  it  oft,  runs  with  salubrity. 


PUEM   OF   THE  RIDE. 


POEM    OF   THE    RIDI-:. 
A   PARODY-MOSAIC 

BY    DALT    \VHKI  I,  MAX. 
Poet  tea  sitrgit  tempest  as. 

1.  SEATED,  but  erect,  I  take  to  the  open  road, 
Sturdy,  free,  the  wheel  beneath  me, 

The  long  brown  path  before  me,  leading  wherever  I 
choose. 

2.  Allons  !     Whoever  you  are,  come  travel  with  me  ! 
Travelling  with  me,  you  find  what  never  tires. 
Omnes  !    en   masse,    Americanos  !      Libertad  !      Re- 

spondez  ! 

I  am  he  that  walks  on  the  rigid  and  rolling  wheel  ; 
I  call  to  the    rolling   earth    and    sea,  upheld  by  the 

wheel, 
Wheel   of  the  wiry  quietude  !     Wheel  of  the    small 

many  spokes  ! 
Slim,    trim,    glossy,    peculiar    wheel  !       Mad,    gentle, 

skeleton,  rubber,  nickel  wheel  ! 


POEM  OF  THE  RIDE.  143 

Behold  the  great  rondure,  all  bright  from  central  to 
extreme  —  the  cohesion  of  all,  how  perfect! 

The  fine  centrifugal  spokes  of  light,  the  quick,  tremu- 
lous whirl  of  the  wheels  —  the  two  wheels, 
twain  but  not  twin. 


3.  I  chant  the  chant  of  rotation  or  ride,  a  ride  with  a 

flying  flavor ; 
We   have   had   crawling   and    perambulating    about 

enough. 

I  show  that  wheel  is  only  development. 
From  this  hour,  freedom,  and  a  sprightly  domination  ! 
From  this  hour,  we  ordain  ourselves  loosed  of  limits 

and  all  horse-car  lines, 
Going  where  we  list  —  our  own   motors,  rotal    and 

resolute. 

4.  Here   is   realization,   the  requisite  realization  of 

health  ; 

Here  is  a  man  rallied,  and  he  fires  up  what  he  has  in 
him. 

Sublimed  upon  the  zenith  of  a  wheel,  I  ride  the  tri- 
umphal arch  of  hygienic  hilarity. 


144  POEM  OF  THE  RIDE. 

I  tread  the  pedal  orbits  with  plunging  feet; 

I  dance  and  equilibria  on  the  revoluling  stilts; 

Trampling  strong  to  the  hill-tops,  and  shooting  the 
rapids  down. 

My  foothold  is  tenoned  and  mortised  in  confidence, 

And  I  know  the  amplitude  of  space. 

Mine  is  the  wheel  of  the  most  high,  a  sixty-incher. 

Earth !  you  seem  to  look  for  something  at  my  feet ; 

Say,  old  Stop-not !  what  do  you  want  ? 

Far-swooping,  whirling  Earth,  with  the  trailing  satel- 
lite, 

Smile,  for  your  Bicycler  comes  !  We  it  is  who  balance 
ourselves,  orbic  and  stellar. 

We  must  have  a  turn  together  —  beat  the  gong  of 
revolution  for  our  rouse  and  early  start. 

5.  Long  had  I  walked  my  cities,  my  country  roads 
and  farms,  only  half-satisfied. 

I  heard  what  was  said  of  the  universe,  its  immensities 
of  space  and  time,  its  orbits  of  stars  and  plan- 
ets, its  chronological,  geological  and  astronom- 
ical cycles  ; 

It  is  middling  well  as  far  as  it  goes,  —  But  is  that 
all? 


POEM  OF   THE  RIDE.  145 

Belonging  to  the  winders  of  the  circuit  of  circuits,  my 
words  are  words  of  a  questioning,  and  to  in- 
dicate Totality  and  motive-power. 

I  know  perfectly  well  my  own  legotism ; 

One  of  that  centripetal  and  centrifugal  band,  full  of  the 
power  of  the  wheely  boast,  I  turn  and  talk  like 
an  engine  blowing  off  steam  after  a  journey. 

6.  I  rise  elastic  through  all,  sweep  with  the  true  levi- 
tation, 

The  whirling  of  wheeling  elemental  and  primeval 
within  me  ; 

In  a  higher  walk  of  life,  an  unearthly  walk. 

That  I  ride  and  speak  is  spectacle  enough  for  the 
great  authors  and  schools  —  me  imperturbe, 
aplomb,  orotund,  turbulent,  emerging  superb. 

I  harbinge,  I  promulge,  I  propound  haughty  and 
gigantic  enigmas. 

I  step  up  to  say  I  am  a  Chaos,  a  pied  marauder  on 
the  rampage  ! 

I  sound  my  sarcastic  whoop  over  the  bardic  habi- 
tudes —  rhyme  and  metres  to  the  perfect  lit- 
erats  of  America. 

Do  you  take  it  I  would  astonish? 


I4r>  POEM  OF    THE   KIDE. 

Does  the  sunrise  astonish?     Does  the  early  milkman, 

rattling  over  the  stones? 
Do    I    astonish    more    than    they?     Would  you  have 

delicate  thunderbolts? 

7.  I   launch  forward,  I   propel  the  r-ideal   man,  the 

American  of  the  future, 

For  I  see  that  power  is  funded  in  a  great  bicyclism. 
What  do  you  suppose  will  satisfy  the  Soul  except  to 

walk  free  upon  a  superior  bicycle? 
Imbued   as   they  —  active,  receptive,  often   silent   as 

they? 

They  do  not  seem  to  me  like  the  old  specimens. 
They  seem  to  me  at  last  as  perfect  as  the  animals  — 

to  that  the  revolving  cycles  truly  and  steadily 

rolled. 

8.  O  for  the  paces  of  animals  !     O  for  the  swiftness 

and  balance  of  fishes  and  the  birds  ! 

0  to  be  self-balanced  for  contingencies  ! 

1  am  an  ostrich,  an  albatross,  a  condor  of  the  Amies. 
I  am  tattooed  with  antelopes  and  birds  all  over, 

And   have   distanced   what   is   behind   me   for   good 
reasons. 


'    Y  > 


POEM  OF   THE^X^I  .  147 

^^i; 

0  to   cling   close   to   something   afar  off,  something 

precarious  and  uproarious  ! 

To  push  with  resistless  way,  and  speed  off  in  the  dis- 
tance, 

To  speed  where  there  is  space  enough  and  air  enough 
at  last  ! 

1  breathe  the  air  and  leave  plenty  after  me. 

9.  You   there,  hesitant,  limp    in    the   knees,  walking 

humbly,  lamenting  your  sins ; 
Down-footed  doubters,  dull  and  excluded  :    you   are 

eligible  ! 

What  have  I  to  do  with  lamentation? 
How  is  it  I  extract  strength  from  the  beef  I  eat? 
I    trip   forth   replenished  with   serene  power  on   the 

bright  ring  of  ride,  the  ensemble  of  the  orbic 

frame,  the  great  Biune. 
On  cycles  fit  for  reception  I  start  bigger  and  nimbler 

lads. 

This  way  I  am  getting  the  stuff  of  more  elevated  re- 
publicans ; 
They  are   tanned   in   the  face   by  glowing  suns  and 

blowing  winds, 
Their  flesh  has  the  old  divine  suppleness  and  strength. 


148  POEM  OF   THE  KIDE. 

10.  Men  of  the  roily  vantage,  I  salute  you  ! 

I  see  the  approach  of  your  numberless  clubs —  I 

you  understand  yourselves  and  me. 
Vivas  to  those  who  are  weaned  from  walking  and  go 

the  many-mileing  gait  ! 
I  beat  triumphal  drums  with  my  head, 
I  blow  through  all  my  embouchures  my  loudest  and 

gayest  music  to  you. 
We  slip  the   trammels  of  space  and   time,  we  level 

poise  our  glittering  flight ; 
Inland  and  by  the  sea-coast  and  boundary  lines,  and 

we  pass  all  boundary  lines. 
Our  swift  ordinances  are  on  their  way  over  the  whole 

earth. 

With  wingy  gait  and  all  ways  so  prononc£, 
We  roam  accepted  everywhere, 
Scouting  along  exalt£  as  with  a  fierce  magical  elixir, 
Spurning  for  good  the  clods  the  bricks  that  clung  so 

long  to  the  feet  of  man. 


THIS  with   apologies   to   the   Poet   of   Humanity  and 
America  —  and  so  to  a  more  mine  one: 


CHANTING    THE  ROUND  MIRIFIC.        149 


CHANTING   THE   ROUND   MIRIFIC. 

Vox.  clamantis  in  bicydo. 

i.  CHANTING  the  round  mirific,  out  with  the  two 
emerging,  out  for  a  ride, 

Out  with  the  young  and  older,  with  the  sleek  and  roily 
one,  the  hygienic  horse, 

Hollow,  two-sided  (both  the  sides  needed,)  the  noise- 
less obedient  one, 

In  itself  narrow,  its  range  so  wide,  so  express ; 

I  culminate,  I  move  abroad. 


2.  To  espouse,  warily  (once  wed-linked  to  a  cranky 
dame  tigerish,)  to  annex  anew  and  for  sure, 

My  choice  for  consort  was  clear  at  last : 

If  that  which  ran  in  front  go  behind, 

And  that  which  went  behind  advance  to  the  front, 

Not  for  me  the  reversal  —  spinal  slope  and  step-up 
clean  gone  ! 

Nor  a  very  facile  low  wheel,  too  like  the  old  the  shape 
for  bones  and  bowels  shaking ; 

Nor  the  Yankee  Xspurt,  or  any  too  fast  and  fickle  one. 


ISO        CHANTING    THE  ROUND  MIRIFIC. 

For  me  the  Safety  and  comfort,  the  Xtraordinaire>  the 

levers,  the  wee  walking   beams  the  links,  the 

much  rake. 

(  Made  by  Singer  &  Co.  —  I  one  such  also, 
Scooping  many  into  my  company.) 
Uphoist   on  that  the  mighty  auxiliar,  the  wheely  of 

wheelies, 

As  Ulysses  bestriding  the  log  for  a  sea-horse, 
But  more  like  an  elderly  bird  aquiline  (bawl'd  headed 

perhaps,)  I  fare  forward. 
With  easy  grip  and  measured   tread   I   run  steadily, 

fearless,  pressing  with  perpendicular  feet, 
Chanting  at  intervals  the  songs  of  the  risen  sons. 


3.  I  am  for  all  who  walk  awheel  on  the  whol  -  artli, 
my  camerados, 

The  weak  and  slowly  wobblers  too,  but  probably  more 
for  the  high-propt,  full-lunged  and  limber-legged 
of  long  trial : 

The  trained  competitors,  the  scorchers,  with  the  sibi- 
lant hum  of  their  raceful  wheels ; 

The  forthsteppers  to  the  far-stretching  circuits  and 
•as  of  the  winding  and  undulating  ride, 


CHANTING    THE  ROUND  MIRIFIC.        \$\ 

Before  whom  latitude  narrows,  longitude  contracts,  — 
Who  stand-sit  poised  aflight  in  the  saddle,  launching 
there  over  the  world. 


4.  I  mind  yet  the  crowds  held  of  the  old  drag- on 
horsecar,  or  laggard  on  the  trottoirs  —  to  me 
they  are  but  torpid  somnambules  creeping, 
blinking. 

O  the  endless  herds  of  the  wheelless,  my  cities  filled 
with  the  wheelless  ! 

Them  languished  with  plodding  to  uplift  and  advance, 
renerve,  toughen  and  expedite, 

To  enthuse  them  to  Totality,  self-pulsion,  erectitude,  — 
knee  breeches, 

These  many  poems  I  pour,  containing  the  start  for 
each  and  most ; 

And  to  supply  myself  and  adepts  with  songs  fit  for 
these  mounts ; 

Songs  soular  and  corporal,  arrogant,  pensive,  saccha- 
rine, satiric, 

Health's  inlet  songs,  loud-lauding,  bombastic  lays, 
jocular  sublimities, 

Biggest   dictionary  not  sufficing,  and   six  languages 


152        CIIANTIXG    THE  ROUND  MIRIFIC. 

needed  —  me   too    polyglot,    putting   on   too 

much  style; 
(Any  scraps  of  error,  for  the  linguistic  and  pluperfect 

literals  carelessly  leaving)  ; 
High-footed  and  high-handed,  dual,  combinate  song, 

assuming  all  — 
Harp    of  many  strings,  songs   of  great   poets   made 

perfect.     I  give  and  take. 
I  would  finish  specimens,  as  nature  does,  each  crystal 

particular  polished  and  precise  ; 
I  am  no  Kosmos,  but  nature  will  do  for  me. 
Bad  form  befits  not  Rota's  lines,  or  men. 
I  never  slop  over  (hardly  over)  or  bite  off  more  than 

I  can  chew ; 
I  do  not  my  breast  thump  and  bellow  like  a  gorilla 

bard  (not  much). 

5.  Enough  :  I  cease,  I  pass,  contented  I  repress  many 
things,  — 

The  melange,  the  froth  and  float,  the  de'bris,  the  inter- 
minable catalogue  and  inventory,  the  geograph- 
ical spread,  the  tireless  splurges  (me  militant 
and  vaunting),  the  exposd,  the  tender  and  sol- 
emn bawdy-talk,  withheld  for  reasons. 


CHANTING    THE  ROUND   MIRIFIC.        153 

Whist !  I  ride  quietly  by ;  menacing,  taciturn,  absorb- 
ing effusing  much,  I  depart. 

DALT  WHEELMAN. 


SOME  amende  to  the  master  is  due  here   from  the 
refractory  pupil :  — 

WHEN  in  a  state  of  puffed  laudation 

Soft  poets  of  the  period  shine, 
Live  souls  will  hail  any  emanation 

Of  song  from  genius  genuine. 
That  is  the  time  for  his  appearing, 

Wild  Walt  whom  nature  greatly  leads  : 
With  oaks  and  pines  around  uprearing, 
We  look  up  regardless, 

Look  up  regardless  of  the  weeds. 


To  write  in  the  common  effeminate  vein 
Employs  mighty  little  of  blood  or  of  brain  : 
Mediocritus  mainly  intent  we  behold 
Not  that  books  may  be  real,  but  that  books  may 

be  sold ; 

And  as  head  has  so  little  to  do  with  the  sale, 
Many  volumes  are  female  expanse  in  the  tale. 


154  A   DUET. 

A    DUET. 
SUPER-TRANSLATED    FROM   A   PERSIAN  POET. 

QUOTH  Z>.,  in  swelling  song  who  tries 

With  beams  of  light  from  poet-stars 
To  paint  it  as  a  fine  disguise 
Upon  bicycle's  iron  bars  : 

It  plagues  you  Fogies  that  I  sing 
Nc\v  life  by  forms  of  metal  shine ; 

And  naught  of  roses,  love  and  spring, 
The  azure  sky,  or  ruby  wine. 

F.  —  Tis  rankly  wrong  to  boast  and  praise 

The  ignis  fat''  or  tallow  candle, 
And  of  the  Sun's  all-giving  rays 
No  panegyrics  ever  handle. 

D.  —  Most  like  the  early  sun's  award, 

I  strike  up  to  the  high  things  round  ! 
Our  whizzing  wheels  I  must  applaud 
Above  what  make  the  common  sound. 

Let  bigger  bards  their  lyres  attune 

To  wars  and  woes,  and  fame  and  kings 


EGO;   PRIVATE  AND  POSTHUMOUS.      155 

And  roses,  wine,  or  love  and  moon, 
Suit  not  the  steel  of  wire  strings. 

F.  —  O  poemster  wild,  how  flagrant  are 
Thy  carols  on  unlovely  themes  ! 
The  Hades'  gates  are  now  ajar 

To  shut-in  you  with  dismal  screams. 


EGO;    PRIVATE  AND   POSTHUMOUS. 

AFTER    BOCCACCIO    ON   DANTE. 

DALTY  am  I,  Parodia's  son,  who  grew 

By  others'  genius  (but  no  style  unsure  — 

All  elegance  composite  and  mature), 

My  theme  mere  bicycle  to  common  view. 

Thro'  paths  pedalian  and  Castalian  flew 

My  rolling  fancy,  up  Parnasse  secure, 

For  long  time  shall  my  gay  sublime  endure, 

Fit  to  be  read  of  men  and  women  true. 

Abby  my  widow-spouse's  dear  front  name ; 

Beloved  by  me  —  whom  from  her  side  she  thrust ! 

Her  beauteous  sons'  cantankerous  ways  to  blame. 

B.  Bi.  C.  housed  my  axle,  hold  my  dust 

It  will  what  time  cremation  inurns  the  same, 

Or  my  wronged  shade  will  feel  it  most  unjust. 


156  TO    THE 


I   i\(  i  ODE  here  the   following  few  scurrilous  ]>i 
because  the  voun^  penholders  seem  to  have  adopted   my 
method,  though  only  to  misstate  it  and  abuse  the  metho- 
dist  —  the  travelling  elder :  — 


TO   THE   "  POEMSTER." 

You  that  go  gathering  at  every  spring 

Which  from  the  veins  of  old  Parnassus  flows, 

And  many  a  flower  of  rarest  hue  that  blows 

Near  thereabout  into  your  versing  wring; 

You  that  big-dictionary  plunder  bring 

Into  your  rhymes,  running  in  rattling  rows ; 

You  that  some  poet's  long  deceased  woes, 

Or  new-born  sighs,  on  dizened  wires  do  string ; 

You  take  wrong  ways,  those  crooked  turns  be  such 

As  do  betray  a  want  of  inward  touch ; 

And  sure  at  last  stolen  goods  do  come  to  light. 

I  kit  if  you  have  a  hope  ro  raise  your  name 

To  ride  upon  "  a  sixty-inch  "  of  fame, 

Stealing  be  quit,  and  then  begin  to  write. 

SIDNEY. 


TO   A    CERTAIN  PARODIST.  157 

TO   A   CERTAIN    PARODIST. 

WHEN  decked  in  alien  garb  you  shine, 

And  tune  your  oft  felonious  notes, 
You  seem  a  trickster  of  the  Nine, 

Or  Davis  Jeff  in  petticoats. 
And  surely  when  your  song  you  fling, 

Your  saucy  song  with  subtle  art, 
Your  pen's  an  iron-tonic  thing 

And  often  frets  the  gentle  heart. 


YOU'VE  showed  yourself  a  sinful  creetur, 
You've  murdered  poets  and  stole  their  metre, 
Have  dared  the  best  of  all  to  alter 
For  sonnets  in  your  cycling  psalter,  — 
And  for  your  pains  deserve  a  halter. 


Hosris. 


TRUE  people  cry 

To  him,  —  O  fie  ! 
Why  don't  you  make  your  own  ? 

Good  reason  why, 

Just  like  the  Bi., 
He  cannot  stand  alone. 


158  CLOSING   JIYMX. 


CLOSING   HYMN. 

BY   PIUS   ROTATOR. 

NI.AKER,  my  Wheel,  to  thee, 
Nearer  to  thee  ! 

E'en  though  it  be  a  pig- 
Skin  seateth  me, 

Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 

Nearer,  my  wheel,  to  thee, 
Nearer  to  thee. 

Though,  like  a  blunderer, 

I  have  gone  down, 
Hind  wheel  right  over  me, 

Because  a  stone 
Got  in  my  track  —  I'd  be 
Nearer,  my  wheel,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee. 

I  know  the  way  to  climb 
Steps  unto  saddle,  — 

All  scapes  thou  sendest  me, 
On  I  skedaddle ; 


CLOSING   HYMN.  I  $9 

All  the  more  reckon  me 
Nearer,  my  wheel,  to  thee, 
Nearer  to  thee. 

Even  my  walking  thoughts 

Bright  with  thy  praise, 
Out  of  my  stony  griefs 

No  h— 11  I'll  raise  ; 
So  by  my  rubs  to  be 
Nearer,  my  wheel,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee. 

And  when  on  joyful  wire 

Cleaving  the  air, 
Bruises  and  bumps  forgot, 

Onwards  I  tear, 
Sure  all  my  song  shall  be, 
Nearer,  my  wheel,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee  ! 


SINCE  when  a  warbling  eagle  wheeled  among  birds, 
Night-outing  owls  are  not  accounted  song-birds. 

END. 


POSTSCRIPT.  —  Reader,  you  and  I  have  herein  disagreed  extremely  over 
some  things  (you  mostly  in  the  wrong) ;  let  us  now  make  it  up  over  the 
wheelman's  drink, 

A   POT   OF   ALE. 

BY   MALT  WITMAN. 

(See  Ritsorfs  "Select  Collection:1) 
To  light  up  the  rays  of  mirth  in  the  face, 

And  make  a  man's  state  to  be  happy  and  hale, 
Not  drunken  nor  sober,  but  neighbor  to  both, 

There  is  nothing  will  serve  like  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

Be  he  lowly  and  poor,  a  plowman  or  boor, 
So  much  will  its  flattering  humor  prevail, 

He  speaks  no  less  things  than  of  lords  and  of  kings, 
If  he  touch  but  the  foam  of  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

And  the  good  old  clerk  whose  sight  waxeth  dark, 
And  ever  he  thinks  the  print  is  too  pale, 

He  will  see  every  letter,  and  say  service  better, 
With  a  glaze  on  his  eyes  from  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

The  poet  divine,  who  cannot  reach  wine, 
Because  that  his  money  too  often  doth  fail, 

Will  hit  on  the  vein  to  make  a  rare  strain, 

If  he  be  but  endowed  with  a  pot  of  good  ale. 


Thus  it  helps  spee<  h  and  wit,  and  it  hurts  n;,t  a 
I.ut  rather  doth  further,  the  virtues1  morale  ; 

Thereof  you  may  know  if  a  little  I  show 
The  high  moral  parts  of  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

Truth  will  do  it  right  for  it  brings  truth  to  light, 
And  many  bad  matters  begin  to  unveil ; 

F»>r  men  to  their  drink  will  say  what  they  think  — 
Tom  Tell- troth  lies  hid  in  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

And  next  I  allege  it  gives  courage  an  edge ; 

Even  he  that  by  nature  recoils  like  a  snail, 
Will  swear  and  will  swagger,  and  out  with  his  dagger, 

If  he  buckle  his  belt  on  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

Each  soldier  of  Britain,  as  all  will  admit, 

A  dozen  or  more  souping  Frenchmen  can  wale ; 

He  makes  'em  afeard,  for  he  liquors  his  beard 
With  the  valorous  dash  of  a  pot  of  good  ale. 

O  Ale,  ab  alcndo  —  to  drink  and  commend, 
That  I  had  but  a  mouth  as  big  as  a  whale  ! 

For  mine  is  too  scant  to  supply  all  I  want, 

Or  resound  worthy  praise  of  a  pot  of  good  ale. 


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